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ARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF
NORTH CAROLINA
AT CHAPEL HILL
OCT 5 1988
ENDOWED BY THE
DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC
SOCIETIES
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Page
THE LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF
NORTH CAROLINA
AT CHAPEL HILL
PRESENTED BY
William R. Cox
/
^
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2012 with funding from
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
http://archive.org/details/amongcampsoryounOOpage
AMONG THE CAMPS
BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE.
ELSKET AND OTHER STORIES, umo, $1.00
NEWFOUND RIVER. l2mo, . . 1 00
IN OLE VIRGINIA, umo I 25
THE SAME. Cameo Edition. With an etch-
ing by W. L. Sheppard. i6mo, . . 1.25
AMONG THE CAMPS. Young People's
Stones of the War. Illustrated. Sq 8vo, 1.50
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. Illus-
trated. Square 8vo 15°
"BEFO' DE WAR." Echoes of Negro Dia-
lect. By. A. C. Gordon and Thomas
Nelson Page l2mo, .... 1.00
HALT ! ' BANG, BANG, WENT THE GUNS IN HIS VERY FACE.
AMONG THE CAMPS
OR
YOUNG TEOPLE'S STORIES OF THE WAR
^ 5
BY
THOMAS NELSON PAGE
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1891
Copyright, 1891, bv
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Press of J. J. Little & Co.
Astor Place, New York
%\o S*cv
NOTE.
My acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Harper &■ Brothers
and to Mr. A. B. Starey, the Publishers and the Editor of
HARPERS' YOUNG PEOPLE, in which Magazine I had the
pleasure of having these stories, with the accompanying illus-
trations, first appear.
T. N. P.
CONTENTS.
A Captured Santa Clans Page i
Kittykin, and the Part She Played in the War . "41
" Nancy Pansy " " 65
"Jack and Jake" ........... "115
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"Halt!" Bang, bang, went the Guns in His very Face . Frontispiece
Colonel Stafford opens the Bundle . Page n
"What You Children guine do void dat little Cat?" asked
Mammy, severely "41
" 1 Want My Kittykin," said Evelyn 54
Nancy Pansy clasped Harry closely to Her Bosom ... "77
She ran up to Him, putting up Her Face to be Kissed . " gi
He drew Them Plans of the Roads and Hills and big-
Woods •'•' 123
Jack made a running Noose in the Rope and tried to throw
it over the Horse's Head " i^g
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
i.
HOLLY HILL was the place for Christmas ! From Bob
down to brown- eyed Evelyn, with her golden hair
floating all around her, every one hung up a stocking,
and the visit of Santa Ciaus was the event of the year.
They went to sleep on the night before Christmas — or
rather they went to bed, for sleep was long far from their eyes,
— with little squeakings and gurglings, like so many little white
mice, and if Santa Claus had not always been so very punc-
tual in disappearing up the chimney before daybreak, he must
certainly have been caught ; for by the time the chickens were
crowing in the morning there would be an answering- twitter
through the house, and with a patter of little feet and sub-
dued laughter small white-clad figures would steal through
the dim light of dusky rooms and passages, opening doors
with sudden bursts, and shouting' "Christmas gift!" into
darkened chambers, at still sleeping elders, then scurrying
away in the gray light to rake open the hickory embers and
revel in the exploration of their crowded stockings.
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
Such was Christmas morning at Holly Hill in the old
times before the war. Thus it was, that at Christmas 1863,
when there were no hew toys to be had for love or money,
there were much disappointment and some murmurs at Holly
Hill. The children had never really felt the war until then,
though their father, Major Stafford, had been off, first with
his company and then with his regiment, since April, 1861.
Now from Mrs. Stafford down to little tot Evelyn, there was
an absence of the merriment which Christmas always brought
with it. Their mother had done all she could to collect such
presents as were within her reach, but the youngsters were
much too sharp not to know that the presents were "just
fixed up " ; and when they were all gathered around the fire
in their mother's chamber, Christmas morning, looking over
their presents, their little faces wore an expression of pathetic
disappointment.
" I don't think much of this Christmas," announced Ran,
with characteristic gravity, looking down on his presents with
an air of contempt. "A hatchet, a ball of string, and a hare-
trap isn't much."
Mrs. Stafford smiled, but the smile soon died away into
an expression of sadness.
" I too have to do without my Christmas gift," she said.
"Your father wrote me that he hoped to spend Christmas
with us, and he has not come."
" Never mind ; he may come yet," said Bob encourag-
ingly. (Bob always was encouraging. That was why he was
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
"Old Bob.") "An axe was just the thing I wanted, mamma,"
said he, shouldering his new possession proudly.
Mrs. Stafford's face lit up again.
"And a hatchet was what I wanted," admitted Ran;
"now I can make my own hare-traps."
" An' I like a broked knife," asserted Charlie stoutly, fall-
ing valiantly into the general movement, whilst Evelyn pushed
her long hair out of her eyes, and hugged her baby, declar-
ing:
" I love my dolly, and I love Santa Tlaus, an' I love my
papa," at which her mother took the little midget to her
bosom, doll and all, and hid her face in her tangled curls.
II.
THE holiday was scarcely over when one evening Major
Stafford galloped up to the gate, his black horse Ajax
splashed with mud to his ear- tips.
The Major soon heard all about the little ones' disappoint-
ment at not receiving any new presents.
" Santa Tlaus didn' turn this Trismas, but he's tummin'
next Trismas," said Evelyn, looking wisely up at him, that
evening, from the rug where she was vainly trying to make
her doll's head stick on her broken shoulders.
" And why did he not come this Christmas, Miss Wis-
dom?" laughed her father, touching her with the toe of his
boot.
"Tause the Yankees wouldn' let him," said she gravely,
holding her doll up and looking at it pensively, her head on
one side.
"And why, then, should he come next year?"
"Tause God's goin' to make him." She turned the
mutilated baby around and examined it gravely, with her shin-
ing head set on the other side.
" There's faith for you," said Mrs. Stafford, as her hus-
band asked, " How do you know this ?"
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
" Tause God told me," answered Evelyn, still busy with
her inspection.
" He did ? What is Santa Claus going to bring you ?"
The little mite sprang to her feet. " He's goin' to bring
me — a — great — big — dolly — with real sure nough hair, and
blue eyes that will go to sleep." Her face was aglow, and
she stretched her hands wide apart to give the size.
"She has dreamt it," said the Major, in an undertone, to
her mother. " There is not such a doll as that in the South-
ern Confederacy," he continued.
The child caught his meaning. "Yes, he is," she insisted,
" 'cause I asked him an' he said he would ; and Charlie "
Just then that youngster himself burst into the room, a
small whirlwind in petticoats. As soon as his cyclonic ten-
dencies could be curbed, his father asked him :
"Well, what did you ask Santa Claus for, young man ?"
" For a pair of breeches and a sword," answered the boy,
promptly, striking an attitude.
" Well, upon my word ! " laughed his father, eying the
erect little figure and the steady, clear eyes which looked
proudly up at him. "I had no idea what a young Achilles
we had here. You shall have them."
The boy nodded gravely. " All right. When I get to
be a man I won't let anybody make my mamma cry." He
advanced a step, with head up, the very picture of spirit.
"Ah! you won't?" said his father, with a gesture to
prevent his wife interrupting.
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
" Nor my little sister," said the young warrior, patron-
izingly, swelling with infantile importance.
" No ; he won't let anybody make me ky," chimed in
Evelyn, promptly accepting the proffered protection.
" On my word, Ellen, the fellow has some of the old blood
in him," said Major Stafford, much pleased. " Come here,
my young knight." He drew the boy up to him. " I had
rather have heard you say that than have won a brigadier's
wreath. You shall have your breeches and your sword next
Christmas. Were I the king I should give you your spurs.
Remember, never let any one make your mother or sister
cry."
Charlie nodded in token of his acceptance of the condi-
tion.
"All riofit," he said.
III.
WHEN Major Stafford galloped away, on his return
to his command, the little group at the lawn gate
shouted many messages after him. The last thing he
heard was Charlie's treble, as he seated himself on the gate-
post, calling to him not to forget to make Santa Claus bring
him a pair of breeches and a sword, and Evelyn's little voice
reminding him of her " dolly that can go to sleep."
Many times during the ensuing year, amid the hardships
of the campaign, the privations of the march, and the dangers
of battle, the Major heard those little voices calling to him.
In the autumn he won the three stars of a colonel for gal-
lantry in leading a desperate charge on a town, in a perilous
raid into the heart of the enemy's country, and holding the
place ; but none knew, when he dashed into the town at the
head of his regiment under a hail of bullets, that his mind
was full of toyshops and clothing stores, and that when he
was so stoutly holding his position he was guarding a little
boy's suit, a small sword with a gilded scabbard, and a large
doll with flowing ringlets and eyes that could "go to sleep."
Some of his friends during that year had charged the Major
with growing miserly, and rallied him upon hoarding up his
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
pay and carrying large rolls of Confederate money about his
person ; and when, just before the raid, he invested his entire
year's pay in four or five ten-dollar gold pieces, they vowed
he was mad.
The Major, however, always met these charges with a
smile. And as soon as his position was assured in the cap-
tured town he proved his sanity.
The owner of a handsome store on the principal street,
over which was a large sign, " Men's and Boys' Clothes,"
peeping out, saw a Confederate major ride up to the door,
which had been hastily fastened when the fight began, and
rap on it with the handle of his sword. There was something
in the rap that was imperative, and fearing violence if he
failed to respond, he hastily opened the door. The officer
entered, and quickly selected a little uniform suit of blue
cloth with brass buttons.
" What is the price of this ?"
" Ten dollars," stammered the shopkeeper.
To his astonishment the Confederate officer put his hand in
his pocket and laid a ten-dollar gold piece on the counter.
" Now show me where there is a toyshop."
There was one only a few doors off, and there the Major
selected a child's sword handsomely ornamented, and the
most beautiful doll, over whose eyes stole the whitest of rose-
leaf eyelids, and which could talk and do other wonderful
things. He astonished this shopkeeper also by laying down
another gold piece. This left him but two or three more of
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
the proceeds of his year's pay, and these he soon handed over
a counter to a jeweller, who gave him a small package in
exchange.
All during the remainder of the campaign Colonel Stafford
carried a package carefully sealed, and strapped on behind
his saddle. His care of it and his secrecy about it were
the subjects of many jests among his friends in the brigade,
and when in an engagement his horse was shot, and the Col-
onel, under a hot fire, stopped and calmly unbuckled his bun-
dle, and during the rest of the fight carried it in his hand,
there was a clamor that he should disclose the contents.
Even an offer to sing them a song would not appease them.
The brigade officers were gathered around a camp-fire that
night on the edge of the bloody field. A Federal officer,
Colonel Denby, who had been slightly wounded and captured
in the fight, and who now sat somewhat grim and moody
before the fire, was their guest.
" Now, Stafford, open the bundle and let us into the
secret," they all said. The Colonel, without a word, rose and
brought the parcel up to the fire. Kneeling down, he took
out his knife and carefully ripped open the outer cover.
Many a jest was levelled at him across the blazing logs as he
did so.
One said the Colonel had turned peddler, and was trying
to eke out a living by running the blockade on Lilliputian
principles ; another wagered that he had it full of Confeder-
ate bills ; a third, that it was a talisman against bullets, and
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
so on. Within the outer covering were several others ; but
at length the last was reached. As the Colonel ripped care-
fully, the group gathered around and bent breathlessly over
him, the light from the blazing camp-fire shining ruddily on
their eager, weather-tanned faces. When the Colonel put in
his hand and drew out a toy sword, there was a general ex-
clamation, followed by a dead silence ; but when he took the
doll from her soft wrapping, and then unrolled and held up
a pair of little trousers not much longer than a man's hand,
and just the size for a five-year-old boy, the men turned away
their faces from the fire, and more than one who had boys of
his own at home, put his hand up to his eyes.
One of them, a bronzed and weather-beaten officer, who
had charged the Colonel with being a miser, stretched him-
self out on the ground, flat on his face, and sobbed aloud as
Colonel Stafford gently told his story of Charlie and Evelyn.
Even the grim face of Colonel Denby looked somewhat
changed in the light of the fire, and he reached over for the
doll and gazed at it steadily for some time.
IV.
DURING the whole year the children had been looking
forward to the coming of Christmas. Charlie's out-
bursts of petulance and not rare fits of anger were
invariably checked if any mention was made of his father's
injunction, and at length he became accustomed to curb him-
self by the recollection of the charge he had received. If he
fell and hurt himself in his constant attempt to climb up im-
possible places, he would simply rub himself and say, proudly,
" I don't cry now, I am a knight, and next Christmas I am
going to be a man, 'cause my papa's goin' to tell Santa Claus
to bring me a pair of breeches and a sword." Evelyn could
not help crying when she was hurt, for she was only a little
girl ; but she added to her prayer of " God bless and keep my
papa, and bring him safe home," the petition, " Please, God,
bless and keep Santa Tlaus, and let him come here Trismas."
Old Bob and Ran too, as well as the vouneer ones,
looked forward eagerly to Christmas.
But some time before Christmas the steady advance of
the Union armies brought Holly Hill and the Holly Hill
children far within the Federal lines, and shut out all chance
of their being reached by any message or thing from their
i 4 A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
father. The only Confederates the children ever saw now
were the prisoners who were being passed back on their way
to prison. The only news they ever received were the
rumors which reached them from Federal sources. Mrs. Staf-
ford's heart was heavy within her, and when, a day or two
before Christmas, she heard Charlie and Evelyn, as they sat
before the fire, gravely talking to each other of the long-
expected presents which their father had promised that Santa
Claus should bring- them, she could stand it no longer. She
took Bob and Ran into her room, and there told them that now
it was impossible for their father to come, and that the)' must
help her entertain "the children" and console them for their
disappointment. The two boys responded heartily, as true
boys always will when thrown on their manliness.
For the next two days Mrs. Stafford and both the boys
were busy. Mrs. Stafford, when Charlie was not present,
gave her time to cutting out and making a little gray uni-
form suit from an old coat which her husband had worn
when he first entered the army; whilst the boys employed
themselves, Bob in making a pretty little sword and scabbard
out of an old piece of gutter, and Ran, who had a wonderful
turn, in carving a doll from a piece of hard seasoned wood.
The day before Christmas they lost a little time in follow-
ing and pitying a small lot of prisoners who passed along
the road by the gate. The boys were always pitying the
prisoners and planning means to rescue them, for they had an
idea that they suffered a terrible fate. Only one certain case
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 15
had come to their knowledge. A young man had one day
been carried by the Holly Hill gate on his way to the head-
quarters of the officer in command of that portion of the
lines, General Denby. He was in citizen's clothes and was
charged with being a spy. The next morning Ran, who had
risen early to visit his hare-traps, rushed into his mother's
room white-faced and wide-eyed.
"Oh, mamma!" he gasped, "they have hung him, just
because he had on those clothes ! "
Mrs. Stafford, though she was much moved herself,
endeavored to explain to the boy that this was one of the
laws of war ; but Ran's mind was not able to comprehend
the principles which imposed so cruel a sentence for what
he deemed so harmless a fault.
This act and some other measures of severity gave Gen-
eral Denby a reputation of much harshness among the few
old residents who yet remained at their homes in the lines,
and the children used to gaze at him furtively as he would
ride by, grim and stern, followed by his staff. Yet there
were those who said that General Denby's rigor was simply
the result of a high standard of duty, and that at bottom he
had a soft heart.
V.
THE approach of Christmas was recognized even in the
Federal camps, and many a song and ringing laugh
were heard around the camp-fires, and in the tents
and little cabins used as winter quarters, over the boxes
which were pouring in from home. The troops in the camps
near General Denby's headquarters on Christmas eve had
been larking and frolicking all day like so many children,
preparing for the festivities of the evening, when they pro-
posed to have a Christmas tree and other entertainments ;
and the General, as he sat in the front room in the house
used as his headquarters, writing official papers, had more
than once during the afternoon frowned at the noise outside
which had disturbed him. At length, however, late in the
afternoon, he finished his work, and having dismissed his
adjutant, he locked the door, and pushing aside all his
business papers, took from his pocket a little letter and began
to read.
As he read, the stern lines of the grim soldier's face
relaxed, and more than once a smile stole into his eyes and
stirred the corners of his grizzled moustache.
The letter was scrawled in a large childish hand. It
ran :
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 77
" My Dearest Grandpapa : I want to see you very much. I send
you a Christmas gift. I made it myself. I hope to get a whole lot of dolls
and other presents. I love you. I send you all these kisses
, You must kiss them.
" Your loving little granddaughter,
"Lily."
When he had finished reading the letter the old veteran
gravely lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss on each of the
little spaces so carefully drawn by the childish hand.
When he had done he took out his handkerchief and
blew his nose violently as he walked up and down the room.
He even muttered something about the fire smoking; Then
he sat down once more at his table, and placing the little
letter before him, began to write. As he wrote, the fire
smoked more than ever, and the sounds of revelry outside
reached him in a perfect uproar; but he no longer frowned,
and when the strains of " Dixie " came in at the window,
sung in a clear, rich, mellow solo, he sat back in his chair
and listened :
" I wish I were in Dixie, away, away ;
In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
To live and die for Dixie land,
Away, away, away down South in Dixie ! "
sang the beautiful voice, full and sonorous.
When the song ended, there was an outburst of applause,
and shouts apparently demanding some other song, which was
refused, for the noise grew to a tumult. The General rose
1 8 A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
and walked to the window. Suddenly the uproar hushed,
for the voice began again, but this time it was a hymn :
" While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around."
Verse after verse was sung, the men pouring out of their
tents and huts to listen to the music.
"All glory be to God on high,
And to the earth be peace ;
Good will henceforth from Heaven to men
Begin and never cease ! "
sano- the singer to the end. When the strain died away
there was dead silence.
The General finished his letter and sealed it. Carefully
folding up the little one which lay before him, he replaced it
in his pocket, and going to the door, summoned the orderly
who was just without.
"Mail that at once," he said.
" Yes, sir."
" By the way," as the soldier turned to leave, "who was
that singing out there just now? I mean that last one, who
sang ' Dixie,' and the hymn."
"Only a peddler, sir, I believe."
The General's eyes fixed themselves on the soldier.
"Where did he come from ?"
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 19
" I don't know, sir. Some of the boys had him singing."
" Tell Major Dayle to come here immediately," said the
General, frowning.
In a moment the officer summoned entered.
He appeared somewhat embarrassed.
" Who was this peddler?" asked the commander, sternly.
•' I — I don't know — " began the other.
"You don't know ! Where did he come from ?"
" From Colonel Watchly's camp directly," said he,
relieved to shift a part of the responsibility.
" How was he dressed ? "
" In citizen's clothes."
"What did he have?"
" A few toys and trinkets."
"What was his name?"
" I did not hear it."
" And you let him go ! " The General stamped his foot.
"Yes, sir ; I don't think — " he beean.
" No, I know you don't," said the General. " He was a
spy. Where has he gone ? "
" I — I don't know. He cannot have gone far."
" Report yourself under arrest," said the commander,
sternly.
Walking to the door, he said to the sentinel :
" Call the corporal, and tell him to request Captain
Albert to come here immediately."
In a few hours the party sent out reported that they had
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
traced the spy to a place just over the creek, where he was
believed to be harbored.
" Take a detail and arrest him, or burn the house," or-
dered the General, angrily. " It is a perfect nest of treason,"
he said to himself as he walked up and down, as though in
justification of his savage order.
" Or wait," he called to the captain, who was just withdraw-
ing. " I will go there myself, and take it for my headquarters.
It is a better place than this. I cannot stand this smoke any
longer. That will break up their treasonable work."
VI.
ALL that day the tongues of the little ones at Holly Hill
had been chattering unceasingly of the expected visit
of Santa Claus that night. Mrs. Stafford had tried to
explain to Charlie and Evelyn that it would be impossible for
him to bring them their presents this year ; but she was met
with the undeniable and unanswerable statement that their
father had promised them. Before going to bed they had
hung their stockings on the mantelpiece right in front of the
chimney, so that Santa Claus would be sure to see them.
The mother had broken down over Evelyn's prayer, " not
to forget my papa, and not to forget my dolly," and her tears
fell silently after the little ones were asleep, as she put
the finishing touches to the tiny gray uniform for Charlie.
She was thinking not only of the children's disappointment,
but of the absence of him on whose promise they had so
securely relied. He had been away now for a year, and
she had had no word of him for many weeks. Where
was he? Was he dead or alive? Mrs. Stafford sank on
her knees by the bedside.
" O God, give me faith like this little child ! " she prayed
again and again. She was startled by hearing a step on the
front portico and a knock at the door. Bob, who was work-
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
ing in front of che hall fire, went to the door. His mother
heard him answer doubtfully some question. She opened
the door and went out. A stranger with a large bundle or
pack stood on the threshold. His hat, which was still on
his head, was pulled down over his eyes, and he wore a
beard.
" An', leddy, wad ye bay so koind as to shelter a poor
sthranger for a noight at this blissid toim of pace and good-
will ? " he said, in a strong Irish brogue.
" Certainly," said Mrs. Stafford with her eyes fixed on
him. She moved slowly up to him. Then, by an instinct,
quickly lifting her hand, she pushed his hat back from his
eyes. Her husband clasped her in his arms.
" My darling ! "
When the pack was opened, such a treasure-house of toys
and things was displayed as surely never greeted any other
eyes. The smaller children, including Ran, were not awaked,
at their father's request, though Mrs. Stafford wished to wake
them to see him ; but Bob was let into the secrets, except
that he was not permitted to see a small package which
bore his name. Mrs. Stafford and the Colonel were like two
children themselves as they "tipped" about stuffing the long
stockings with candy and toys of all kinds. The beautiful
doll with flaxen hair, all arrayed in silk and lace, was seated,
last of all, securely on top of Evelyn's stocking, with her ward-
robe just below her, where she would greet her young mistress
when she should first open her eyes, and Charlie's little blue
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US. 23
uniform was pinned beside the gray one his mother had made,
with his sword buckled around the waist.
Bob was at last dismissed to his room, and the Colonel
and Mrs. Stafford settled themselves before the fire, hand in
hand, to talk over all the past. They had hardly started,
when Bob rushed down the stairs and dashed into their
room.
" Papa ! papa ! the yard's full of Yankees ! "
Both the Colonel and Mrs. Stafford sprang to their feet.
"Through the back door!" cried Mrs. Stafford, seizins:
her husband.
" He cannot get out that way — they are everywhere ; I
saw them from my window," gasped Bob, just as the sound
of trampling without became audible.
" Oh! what will you do? Those clothes ! If they catch
you in those clothes ! " began Mrs. Stafford, and then stopped,
her face growing ashy pale. Bob also turned even whiter
than he had been before. He remembered the young man
who was found in citizen's clothes in the autumn, and knew
his dreadful fate. He burst out crying. "Oh, papa! will
they hang you ? " he sobbed.
" I hope not, my son," said the Colonel, gravel}'. " Cer-
tainly not, if I can prevent it." A gleam of amusement stole
into his eyes. " It's an awkward fix, certainly," he added.
"You must conceal yourself," cried Mrs. Stafford, as a
number of footsteps sounded on the porch, and a thundering
knock shook the door. " Come here." She pulled him
24 A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
almost by main force into a closet or entry, and locked the
door, just as the knocking was renewed. As the door was
apparently about to be broken down, she went out into the
hall. Her face was deadly white, and her lips were moving
in prayer.
"Who's there?" she called, tremblingly, trying to gain
time.
" Open the door immediately, or it will be broken down,"
replied a stern voice.
She turned the great iron key in the heavy old brass lock,
and a dozen men rushed into the hall. They all waited for
one, a tall elderly man in a general's fatigue uniform, and
with a stern face and a grizzled beard. He addressed her.
" Madam, I have come to take possession of this house as
my headquarters."
Mrs. Stafford bowed, unable to speak. She was sensible
of a feeling of relief ; there was a gleam of hope. If they did
not know of her husband's presence— But the next word
destroyed it.
" We have not interfered with you up to the present time,
but you have been harboring a spy here, and he is here
now."
" There is no spy here, and has never been," said Mrs.
Stafford, with dignity ; " but if there were, you should not
know it from me." She spoke with much spirit. " It is not
the custom of our people to deliver up those who have sought
their protection."
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 25
The officer removed his hat. His keen eye was fixed on
her white face. " We shall search the premises," he said
sternly, but more respectfully than he had yet spoken.
" Major, have the house thoroughly searched."
The men went striding off, opening doors and looking
through the rooms. The General took a turn up and down
the hall. He walked up to a door.
" That is my chamber," said Mrs. Stafford, quickly.
The officer fell back. " It must be searched," he said.
" My little children are asleep in there," said Mrs. Staf-
ford, her face quite white.
" It must be searched," repeated the General. " Either
they must do it, or I. You can take your choice."
Mrs. Stafford made a gesture of assent. He opened the
door and stepped across the threshold. There he stopped.
His eye took in the scene. Charlie was lying in the little
trundle-bed in the corner, calm and peaceful, and by his side
was Evelyn, her little face looking like a flower lying in the
tangle of golden hair which fell over her pillow. The noise
disturbed her slightly, for she smiled suddenly, and muttered
something about " Santa Tlaus" and a " dolly." The officer's
gaze swept the room, and fell on the overcrowded stockings
hanging from the mantel. He advanced to the fireplace and
examined the doll and trousers closely. With a curious ex-
pression on his face, he turned and walked out of the room,
closing the door softly behind him.
" Major," he said to the officer in charge of the searching
26 A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
party, who descended the steps just then, " take the men back
to camp, except the sentinels. There is no spy here." In a
moment Mrs. Stafford came out of her chamber. The old
officer was walking up and down in deep thought. Suddenly
he turned to her : " Madam, be so kind as to £o and tell Col-
onel Stafford that General Denby desires him to surrender
himself." Mrs. Stafford was struck dumb. She was unable
to move or to articulate. " I shall wait for him," said the
General, quietly, throwing himself into an arm-chair, and
looking steadily into the fire.
VII.
AS his father concealed himself, Bob had left the cham-
ber. He was in a perfect agony of mind. He knew
that his father could not escape, and if he were found
dressed in citizen's clothes he felt that he could have but one
fate. All sorts of schemes entered his boy's head to save
him. Suddenly he thought of the small group of prisoners
he had seen pass by about dark. He would save him ! Put-
ting on his hat, he opened the front door and walked out.
A sentinel accosted him surlily to know where he was going.
Bob invited him in to eret warm, and soon had him eneaeed
in conversation.
" What do you do with your prisoners when you catch
them?" inquired Bob.
" Send some on to prison — and hang some."
" I mean when you first catch them."
" Oh, they stay in camp. We don't treat 'em bad, with-
out they be spies. There's a batch at camp now, got in this
evening — sort o' Christmas gift." The soldier laughed as
he stamped his feet to keep warm.
"Where's your camp ? " Bob asked.
" About a mile from here, right on the road, or rather
right on the hill at the edge of the pines 'yond the crick."
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
The boy left his companion, and sauntered in and out
among the other men in the yard. Presently he moved on
to the edge of the lawn beyond them. No one took further
notice of him. In a second he had slipped through the gate,
and was flying across the field. He knew every foot of
ground as well as a hare, for he had been hunting and setting
traps over it since he was as big as little Charlie. He had
to make a detour at the creek to avoid the picket, and the
dense briers were very bad and painful. However, he worked
his way through, though his face was severely scratched.
Into the creek he plunged. " Outch ! " He had stepped
into a hole, and the water was as cold as ice. However, he
was through, and at the top of the hill he could see the glow
of the camp fires lighting up the sky.
He crept cautiously up, and saw the dark forms of the
sentinels pacing backward and forward wrapped in their over-
coats, now lit up by the fire, then growing black against its
blazing embers, then lit up again, and passing away into the
shadow. How could he ever get by them? His heart
began to beat and his teeth to chatter, but he walked boldly
up.
" Halt ! who goes there ?" cried the sentry, bringing his
gun down and advancing on him.
Bob kept on, and the sentinel, finding that it Was only a
boy, looked rather sheepish.
"Don't let him capture you, Jim," called one of them;
" Call the Corporal of the Guard," another ; " Order up the
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 29
reserves," a third ; and so on. Bob had to undergo some-
thing of an examination.
" I know the little Johnny," said one of them.
They made him draw up to the fire, and made quite a fuss
over him. Bob had his wits about him and soon learned that
a batch of prisoners were at a fire a hundred yards further
back. He therefore worked his way over there, although he
was advised to stay where he was and get dry, and had many
offers of a bunk from his new friends, some of whom followed
«
him over to where the prisoners were.
Most of them were quartered for the night in a hut before
which a guard was stationed. One or two, however, sat
around the camp-fire, chatting 1 with their euards. Amono-
them was a major in full uniform. Bob singled him out ; he
was just about his father's size.
He was instantly the centre of attraction. Again he told
them he was from Holly Hill ; again he was recognized by
one of the men.
" Run away to join the army?" asked one.
" No," said Bob, his eyes flashing at the suggestion.
"Lost?"
"No."
" Mother whipped you ?"
" No."
As soon as their curiosity had somewhat subsided, Bob,
who had hardly been able to contain himself, said to the
Confederate major in a low undertone :
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
" My father, Colonel Stafford, is at home, concealed, and
the Yankees have taken possession of the house."
"Well?" said the major, looking down at him as if
casually.
" He cannot escape, and he has on citizen's clothes,
and — " Bob's voice choked suddenly as he gazed at the
major's uniform.
"Well ? " The prisoner for a second looked sharply down
at the boy's earnest face. Then he put his hand under his
chin, and lifting it, looked into his eyes. Bob shivered and
a sob escaped him.
The major placed his hand firmly on his knee. " Why,
you are wringing wet," he said, aloud. " I wonder you are
not frozen to death." He rose and stripped off his coat.
" Here, get into this ;" and before the boy knew it the major
had bundled him into his coat, and rolled up the sleeves so
that Bob could use his hands. The action attracted the
attention of the rest of the group, and several of the Yankees
offered to take the boy and give him dry clothes.
" No, sir," laughed the major; "this boy is a rebel. Do
you think he will wear one of your Yankee suits ? He's a
little major, and I'm going to give him a major's uniform."
In a minute he had stripped off his trousers, and was
helping Bob into them, standing himself in his underclothes
in the icy air. The legs were three times too long for the
boy, and the waist came up to his armpits.
" Now go home to your mother," said the major, laughing
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
at his appearance; "and some of you fellows get me some
clothes or a blanket. I'll wear your Yankee uniform out of
sheer necessity."
Bob trotted around, keeping as far away from the light
of the camp-fires as possible. He soon found himself unob-
served, and reached the shadow of a line of huts, and keeping
well in it, he came to the edge of the camp. He watched his
opportunity, and when the sentry's back was turned slipped
out into the darkness. In an instant he was flying down the
hill. The heavy clothes impeded him, and he stopped only
long enough to snatch them off and roll them into a bundle,
and sped on his way again. He struck the main road, and
was running down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him,
when he suddenly found himself almost on a group of dark
objects who were standing in the road just in front of him.
One of them moved. It was the picket. Bob suddenly
stopped. His heart was in his throat.
" Who goes there ?'" said a stern voice. Bob's heart beat
as if it would spring out of his body.
" Come in ; we have you," said the man, advancing.
Bob sprang across the ditch beside the road, and putting
his hand on the top rail of the fence, flung himself over it,
bundle and all, flat on the other side, just as a blaze of light
burst from the picket, and the report of a carbine startled the
silent night. The bullet grazed the boy's arm, and crashed
through the rail. In a second Bob was on his feet. The
picket was almost on him. Seizing his bundle, he dived into
32 A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US.
the thicket as a half-dozen shots were sent ringing after him,
the bullets hissing and whistling over his head. Several men
dashed into the woods after him in hot pursuit, and a couple
more galloped up the road to intercept him ; but Bob's feet
were winged, and he slipped through briers and brush like a
scared hare. They scratched his face and threw him down,
but he was up again. Now and then a shot crashed behind
him, but he did not care for that ; he thought only of being
caught.
A few hundred yards up, he plunged into the stream, and
wading across, was soon safe from his pursuers. Breathless,
he climbed the hill, made his way through the woods, and
emerged into the open fields. Across these he sped like a
deer. He had almost given out. What if they should have
caught his father, and he should be too late ! A sob escaped
him at the bare thought, and he broke again into a run,
wiping off with his sleeve the tears that would come. The
wind cut him like a knife, but he did not mind that.
As he neared the house he feared that he might be inter-
cepted again and the clothes taken from him, so he stopped
for a moment, and slipped them on once more, rolling up the
sleeves and legs as well as he could. He crossed the yard
undisturbed. He went around to the same door by which
he had come out, for he thought this his best chance. The
same sentinel was there, walking up and down, blowing his
cold hands. Had his father been arrested ? Bob's teeth
chattered, but it was with suppressed excitement.
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 53
" Pretty cold," said the sentry.
"Ye — es," gasped Bob.
"Your mother's been out here, looking for you, I guess,"
said the soldier, with much friendliness.
" I rec — reckon so," panted Bob, moving toward the door.
Did that mean that his father was caught? He opened the
door, and slipped quietly into the corridor.
General Denby still sat silent before the hall fire. Bob
listened at the chamber door. His mother was weeping ; his
father stood calm and resolute before the fire. He had
determined to give himself up.
"If you only did not have on those clothes!" sobbed
Mrs. Stafford. "If I only had not cut up the old uniform
for the children ! "
" Mother ! mother ! I have one ! " gasped Bob, bursting
into the room and tearing off the unknown major's uniform.
VIII.
TEN minutes later Colonel Stafford, with a steady step
and a proud carriage, and with his hand resting on
Bob's shoulder, walked out into the hall. He was
dressed in the uniform of a Confederate major, which fitted
admirably his tall, erect figure.
"General Denby, I believe," he said, as the Union officer
rose and faced him. " We have met before under somewhat
different circumstances," he said, with a bow, "for I now find
myself your prisoner."
" I have the honor to request your parole," said the
General, with great politeness, " and to express the hope that
1 may be able in some way to return the courtesy which I
formerly received at your hands." He extended his hand
and Colonel Stafford took it.
"You have my parole," said he.
" I was not aware," said the General, with a bow
toward Mrs. Stafford, "until I entered the room where your
children were sleeping, that I had the honor of your hus-
band's acquaintance. I will now take my leave and return to
camp, that I may not by my presence interfere with the joy
of this season."
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS. 35
" I desire to introduce to you my son," said Colonel
Stafford, proudly presenting Bob. " He is a hero."
The General bowed as he shook hands with him. Per-
haps he had some suspicion how true a hero he was, for he
rested his hand kindly on the boy's head, but he said
nothing-.
Both Colonel and Mrs. Stafford invited the old soldier
to spend the night there, but he declined. He, however,
accepted an invitation to dine with them next day.
Before leaving, he requested permission to take one more
look at the sleeping children. Over Evelyn he bent silently.
Suddenly stooping, he kissed her little pink cheek, and with
a scarcely audible " Good-night," passed out of the room and
left the house.
The next morning, by light, there was great rejoicing.
Charlie and Evelyn were up betimes, and were laughing and
chattering over their presents like two little magpies.
" Here's my sword and here's my breeches," cried Charlie,
" two pair ; but I'm goin' to put on my gray ones. I ain't
goin' to wear a blue uniform."
" Here's my dolly !" screamed Evelyn, in an ecstasy over
her beautiful present. And presently Bob and Ran burst in,
their eyes fairly dancing.
" Christmas gift ! It's a real one — real Q-old ! " cried Bob,
holding up a small gold watch, whilst Ran was shouting over
a silver one of the same size.
That evening, after dinner, General Denby was sitting by
36 A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
the fire in the Holly Hill parlor, with Evelyn nestled in his
lap, her dolly clasped close to her bosom, and in the absence
of Colonel Stafford, told Mrs. Stafford the story of the open-
ing of the package by the camp-fire. The tears welled up
into Mrs. Stafford's eyes and ran down her cheeks.
Charlie suddenly entered, in all the majesty of his new
breeches, and sword buckled on hip. He saw his mother's
tears. His little face flushed. In a second his sword was
out, and he struck a hostile attitude.
" You sha'n't make my mamma cry ! " he shouted.
"Charlie! Charlie!" cried Mrs. Stafford, hastening to
stop him.
" My papa said I was not to let any one make you cry,"
insisted the boy, stepping before his mother, and still keeping
his angry eyes on the General.
" Oh, Charlie ! " Mrs. Stafford took hold of him. " I am
ashamed of you ! — to be so rude ! "
" Let him alone, madam," said the General. " It is not
rudeness ; it is spirit — the spirit of our race. He has the
soldier's blood, and some day he will be a soldier himself,
and a brave one. I shall count on him for the Union," he
said, with a smile.
Mrs. Stafford shook her head.
A few days later, Colonel Stafford, in accordance with
an understanding, came over to General Denby's camp, and
reported to be sent on to Washington as a prisoner of war.
The General was absent on the lines at the time, but was
A CAPTURED SANTA CLA US. 37
expected soon, and the Colonel waited for him at his head-
quarters. There had been many tears shed when his wife
bade him good-by.
About an hour after the Colonel arrived, the General and
his staff were riding back to camp along the road which ran
by the Holly Hill gate Just before they reached it, two
little figures came out of the grate and started clown the road.
One was a boy of five, who carried a toy sword, drawn, in
one hand, whilst with the other he led his companion, a little
girl of three, who clasped a large yellowdiaired doll to her
breast.
The soldiers cantered forward and overtook them.
"Where are you going, my little people?" inquired the
General, gazing down at them affectionately.
" I'm goin' to get my papa," said the tiny swordsman
firmly, turning a sturdy and determined little face up to him.
" My mamma's cryin', an' I'm goin' to take my papa home.
I ain' ooin' to let the Yankees have him."
The officers all broke into a murmur of mingled admira-
tion and amusement.
" No, we ain' goin' let the Yankees have our papa,"
chimed in Evelyn, pushing her tangled hair out of her eyes,
and keeping fast hold of Charlie's hand for fear of the horses
around her.
The General dismounted.
" How are you going to help, my little Semiramis ?" he
asked, stooping over her with smiling eyes.
3»
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS.
"I'm goin' to give my dolly if they will give me my
papa," she & said, gravely, as if she understood the equality of
the exchange.
" Suppose you give a kiss instead?" There was a sec-
ond of hesitation, and then she put up her little face, and
the old General dropped on one knee in the road and lifted
her in his arms, doll and all.
"Gentlemen," he said to his staff, "you behold the future
defenders of the Union."
The little ones were coaxed home, and that afternoon, as
Colonel Stafford was expecting to leave the camp for Wash-
ington with a lot of prisoners, a despatch was brought in to
General Denby, who read it.
" Colonel," he said, addressing him, " 1 think I shall have
to continue your parole a few days longer. I have just
received information that, by a special cartel which I have
arranged, you are to be exchanged for Colonel McDowell as
soon as he can reach the lines at this point from Richmond ;
and meantime, as we have but indifferent accommodations
here, I shall have to request you to consider Holly Hill as
your place of confinement. Will you be so kind as to con-
vey my respects to Mrs. Stafford, and to your young hero
Bob and make good my word to those two little commis-
sioners of exchange, to whom I feel somewhat committed ?
1 wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."
KITTYKIN, AND THE PART SHE PLAYED
IN THE WAR.
i.
KITTYKIN played a part in the war which has never
been recorded. Her name does not appear in the
list of any battle ; nor is she mentioned in any history
as having saved a life, or as having done anything remark-
able one way or the other. Yet, in fact, she played a most
important part : she prevented a battle which was just going
to begin, and brought about a truce between the skirmish lines
of the Union and the Confederate troops near her home
which lasted several weeks, and probably saved many lives.
There never was a kitten more highly prized than Kitty-
kin, for Evelyn had long wanted a kitten, and the way she
found her was so delightfully unexpected.
It was during the war, when everything was very scarce
down in the South where Evelyn lived. " We don't have
any coffee, or any kittens, or anything," Evelyn said one clay
to some soldiers who had come to her home from their camp,
which was a mile or so away. You would have thought
42 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
from the way she put them together that kittens, like coffee,
were something to have on the table ; but she had heard her
mamma wishing for coffee at breakfast that morning, and she
herself had long: been wanting a kitten. Indeed, she used to
ask for one in her prayers.
Evelyn had no fancy for anything that, in her own words,
"was not live." A thing that had life was of more value in
her eyes than all the toys that were ever given her. A
young bird which, too fat to fly, had fallen from the nest, or
a brokendegged chicken, which was too lame to keep up with
its mother, had her tenderest care ; a little mouse slipping
along the wainscot or playing on the carpet excited her live-
liest interest ; but a kitten, a " real live kittykin," she had
never possessed, though for a long time she had set her
heart on having one. One clay, however, she was out walk-
ing with her mammy in the "big road," when she met several
small negro children coming along, and one of them had a
little bit of a white kitten squeezed up in his arm. It looked
very scared, and every now and then it cried " Mew,
mew."
" Oh, mammy, look at that dear little kittykin ! " cried
Evelyn, running up to the children and stroking the little
mite tenderly.
" What you children gwine do wid dat little cat ?" asked
mammy, severely.
"We gwine loss it," said the boy who had it, promptly.
" Oh, mammy, don't let them do that ! Don't let them
SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR. 43
hurt it ! " pleaded Evelyn, turning to her mammy. " It would
get so hungry."
A sudden thought struck her, and she sprang over toward
the boy, and took the kitten from him, which instantly curled
up in her arms just as close to her as it could get. There
was no resisting her appeal, and a minute later she was run-
ning home far ahead of her mammy, with the kitten hugged
tight in her arms. Her mamma was busy in the sitting-room
when Evelyn came rushing in.
" Oh, mamma, see what I have ! A dear little kittykin !
Can't I have it ? They were just going to throw it away, and
lose it all by itself ; " and she began to jump up and down
and rub the kitten against her little pink cheek, till her mother
had to take hold of her to quiet her excitement.
Kittykin (for that was the name she had received) must
have misunderstood the action, and have supposed she was
going to take her from her young mistress, for she suddenly
bunched herself up into a little white ball, and gave such a
spit at Evelyn's mamma that the lady jumped back nearly a
yard, after which Kittykin quietly curled herself up again in
Evelyn's arm. The next thing was to give her some warm
milk, which she drank as if she had not had a mouthful all
day ; and then she was put to sleep in a basket of wool, where
Evelyn looked at her a hundred times to see how she was
coming on.
Evelyn never doubted after that that if she prayed for a
thing she would get it ; for she had been praying all the time
44 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
for a " little white kitten," and not only was Kittykin as white
as snow, but she was, to use Evelyn's words, " even littler "
than she had expected. There could not, to her mind, be
stronger proof.
As Kittykin grew a little she developed a temper entirely
out of proportion to her size ; when she got mad, she got
mad all over. If anything offended her she would suddenly
back up into a corner, her tail would get about twice as large
as usual, and she would spit like a little fury. However, she
never fought her little mistress, and even in her worst mo-
ments she would allow Evelyn to take her and lay her on her
back in the little cradle she had, or carry her by the neck, or
the legs, or almost any way except by the tail. To pull her
tail was a liberty she never would allow even Evelyn to take.
If she was held by the tail her little pink claws flew out as
quick as a wink and as sharp as needles. Evelyn was very
kind to Kittykin, however, and was careful not to provoke
her, for she had been told that getting angry and kicking on
the floor, as she herself sometimes did when mammy wanted
to comb her curly hair, would make an ugly little girl, and of
course it would have the same effect on a kitten.
Fierce, however, as Kittykin was, it soon appeared that
she was the greatest little coward in the world. A worm in
the walk or a little beetle running across the floor would set
her to jumping as if she had a fit, and the first time she ever
saw a mouse she was far more afraid of it than it was of her.
If it had been a rat, I am sure that she would have died.
SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR. 45
One day Evelyn was sitting on the floor in her mother's
chamber sewing a little blue bag, which she said was her
work-bag, when a tiny mouse ran, like a little gray shadow,
across the hearth. Kittykin was at the moment busily en-
gaged in rolling about a ball of yar-n almost as white as her-
self, and the first thing Evelyn knew she gave a jump like a
trap-ball, and slid up the side of the bureau like a little shaft
of light, where she stood with all four feet close together, her
small back roached up in an arch, her tail all fuzzed up over
it, and her mouth wide open and spitting like a little demon.
She looked so funny that Evelyn dropped her sewing, and
the mouse, frightened half out of its little wits, took advan-
tage of her consternation to make a rush back to its hole
under the wainscoting, into which it dived like a little duck.
After holding her lofty position for some time, Kittykin let
her hairs fall and lowered her back, but every now and then
she would raise them again at the bare thought of the awful
animal which had so terrified her. At length sne decided
that she might go down ; but how was she to do it? Smooth
though the mahogany was, she had, under excitement, gone
up like a streak of lightning ; but now when she was cool-she
was afraid to jump down. It was so high that it made her
head swim ; so, after walking timidly around and peeping
over at the floor, she began to cry for some one to take her
down, just as Evelyn would have done under the same
circumstances.
Evelyn tried to coax her down, but she would not come ;
46 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
so finally she had to drag a chair up to the bureau and get
up on it to reach her.
Perhaps it was the fright she experienced when she found
herself up so high that caused Kittykin to revenge herself on
the little mouse shortly afterward, or perhaps it was only her
cat instinct developing ; but it was only a short time after
this that Kittykin did an act which grieved her little mistress
dreadfully. The little mouse had lived under the wainscot
since long before Kittykin had come, and it and Evelyn were
on very good terms. It would come out and dash along by
the wall to the wardrobe, under which it would disappear, and
after staying there some time it would hurry back. This
Evelyn used to call " paying visits ; " and she often wondered
what mice talked about when they got together under the
wardrobe. Or sometimes it would slip out and frisk around
on the floor — "just playing," as Evelyn said. There was a
perfect understanding between them : Evelyn was not to hurt
the mouse nor let mammy set a trap for it, and the mouse was
not to bite Evelyn's clothes — but if it had to cut at all, was
to confine itself to her mamma's. After Kittykin came, how-
ever, the mouse appeared to be much less sociable than for-
merly ; and after the occasion when it alarmed Kittykin so, it
did not come out again for a long time. Evelyn used to
wonder if its mamma was keeping it in.
One day, however, Evelyn was sewing, and Kittykin was
lying by, when she suddenly seemed to get tired of doing
nothing, and began to walk about.
SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR. 47
" Lie down, Kittykin," said her mistress ; but Kittykin did
not appear to hear. She just lowered her head, and peeped
under the bureau, with her eyes set in a curious way. Pres-
ently she stooped very low, and slid along the floor without
making the slightest noise, every now and then stopping per-
fectly still. Evelyn watched her closely, for she had never
seen her act so before. Suddenly, however, Kittykin gave a
spring, and disappeared under the bureau. Evelyn heard a
little squeak, and the next minute Kittykin walked out with
a little mouse in her mouth, over which she was growling like
a little tigress. Evelyn was jumping up to take it away from
her when Kittykin, who had gone out into the middle of the
room, turned it loose herself, and quietly walking away, lay
down as if she were going to sleep. Then Evelyn saw that
she did not mean to hurt it, so she sat and watched the
mouse, which remained quite still for some time.
After a while it moved a little, to see if Kittykin was really
asleep. Kittykin did not stir. Her eyes were fast shut, and
the mouse seemed satisfied ; so, after waiting a bit, it made a
little dash toward the bureau. In a single bound Kittykin
was right over it, and had laid her white paw on it. She did
not, however, appear to intend it any injury, but began to
play with it just as Evelyn would have liked to do ; and, lying
down, she rolled over and over, holding it up and tossing it
gently, quite as Evelyn sometimes did her, or patting it and
admiring it as if it had been the sweetest little mouse in the
world. The mouse, too, appeared not to mind it the least
4 S KITTIKIN.
bit ; and Evelyn was just thinking how nice it was that Kitty-
kin and it had become such friends, and was planning nice
games with them, when there was a faint little squeak, and
she saw Kittykin, who had just been petting the little crea-
ture, suddenly drive her sharp white teeth into its neck.
Evelyn rushed at her.
" Oh, you wicked Kittykin ! Aren't you ashamed of
yourself?" she cried, catching her up by the tail and shak-
ing her well, as the best way to punish her.
Just then her mamma entered. " Oh, Evelyn, why are
you treating kitty so?" she asked.
" Because she's so mean," said Evelyn, severely. " She's
a murderer."
Her mamma tried to explain that killing the mouse was
Kittykin's nature ; but Evelyn could not see that this made it
any the less painful, and she was quite cool to Kittykin for
some time.
The little mouse was buried that evening in a matchbox
under a rose-bush in the garden ; and Kittykin, in a black rag
which was tied around her as a dress, was compelled, evi-
dently much against her will, to do penance by acting as chief
mourner.
II.
KITTYKIN was about five months old when there was a
great marching of soldiers backward and forward ; the
tents in the field beyond the woods were taken down
and carried away in wagons, and there was an immense stir.
The army was said to be " moving." There were rumors
that the enemy was coming, and that there might be a battle
near there. Evelyn was so young that she did not under-
stand any more of it than Kittykin did ; but her mother
appeared so troubled that Evelyn knew it was very bad,
and became frightened, though she did not know why. Her
mammy soon gave her such a gloomy account, that Evelyn
readily agreed with her that it was " like torment." As for
Kittykin, if she had been born in a battle, she could not have
been more unconcerned. In a day or two it was known that
the main body of the army was some little way off on a long
ridge, and that the enemy had taken up its position on
another hill not far distant, and Evelyn's home was between
them ; but there was no battle. Each army began to
intrench itself ; and in a little while there was a long red
bank stretched across the far edee of the great field behind
the house, which Evelyn was told was "breastworks" for the
50 KITTY KIN, AND THE PART
picket line, and she pointed them out to Kittykin, who
blinked and yawned as if she did not care the least bit if
they were.
Next morning a small squadron of cavalry came galloping
by. A body of the enemy had been seen, and they were
going to learn what it meant. In a little while they came
back.
"The enemy," they said, "were advancing, and there
would probably be a skirmish right there immediately."
As they rode by, they urged Evelyn's mamma either to
leave the house at once or to go down into the basement,
where they might be safe from the bullets. Then they gal-
loped on across the field to get the rest of their men, who
were in the trenches beyond. Before they reached there a
lot of men appeared on the edge of the wood in front of the
house. No one could tell how many they were ; but the sun
gleamed on their arms, and there was evidently a good force.
At first they were on horseback ; but there was a " Bop !
bop ! " from the trenches in the field behind the house, and
they rode back, and did not come out any more. Next
morning, however, they too had dug a trench. These,
Evelyn heard some one say, were a picket line. About
eleven o'clock they came out into the field, and they seemed
to have spread themselves out behind a little rise or knoll
in front of the house. Mammy's teeth were just chattering,
and she went to moaning and saying her prayers as hard
as she could, and Evelyn's mamma told her to take Evelyn
SHE FLAYED IN THE WAR. 51
down into the basement, and she would bring the baby ; so
mammy, who had been following mamma about, seized
Evelyn, and rushed with her down-stairs, where, although
they were quite safe, as the windows were only half above
the ground, she fell on her face on the floor, praying as if
her last hour had come. " Bop ! bop ! " went some muskets
up behind the house. " Bang ! bop ! bang ! " went some on
the other side.
Evelyn suddenly remembered Kittykin. " Where was
she ? " The last time she had seen her was a half-hour
before, when she had been lying curled up on the back steps
fast asleep in the sun. Suppose she should be there now,
she would certainly be killed, for the back steps ran right out
into the yard so as to be just the place for Kittykin to be
shot. So thought Evelyn. " Bang! bang!" went the guns
again— somewhere. Evelyn dragged a chair up to a window
and looked. Her heart almost stopped ; for there, out in
the yard, quite clear of the houses, was Kittykin, standing
some way up the trunk of a tall locust-tree, looking curiously
around. Her little white body shone like a small patch of
snow against the dark brown bark. Evelyn sprang down
from the chair, and forgetting everything, rushed through
the entry and out of doors.
" Kitty, kitty, kitty ! " she called. " Kittykin, come here !
You'll be killed ! Come here, Kittykin !"
Kittykin, however, was in for a game, and as her little
mistress, with her golden hair flying in the breeze, ran toward
52 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
her, she rushed scampering still higher up the tree. Evelyn
could see that there were some men scattered out in the
fields on either side of her, some of them stooping, and some
lying down, and as she ran on toward the tree she heard a
"Bang! bang!" on each side, and she saw little puffs of
white smoke, and something went " Zoo-ee-ee " up in the air ;
but she did not think about herself, she was so frightened for
Kittykin.
"Kitty, kitty! Come down, Kittykin !" she called, run-
ning up to the tree and holding up her arms to her. Kitty-
kin might, perhaps, have liked to come down now, but she
could no longer do so ; she was too high up. She looked
down, first over one shoulder, and then over the other, but it
was too high to jump. She could not turn around, and her
head began to swim. She grew so dizzy, she was afraid she
might fall, so she dug her little sharp claws into the bark,
and began to cry.
Evelyn would have run back to tell her mamma (who,
having sent the baby down-stairs to mammy, was still busy
up-stairs trying to hide some things, and so did not know she
was out in the yard); but she was so afraid Kittykin might
be killed that she could not let her get out of her sight.
Indeed, she was so absorbed in Kittykin that she forgot
all about everything else. She even forgot all about the
soldiers. But though she did not notice the soldiers, it
seemed that some of them had observed her. Just as the
leader of the Confederate picket line was about to give an
SHE PLA YED IN THE WAR. 55
order to make a dash for the houses in the yard, to his hor-
ror he saw a little girl in a white dress and with flying hair
suddenly run out into the clear space right between him and
the soldiers on the other side, and stop under a tree just in
the line of their fire. His heart jumped into his mouth as he
sprang to his feet and waved his hands wildly to call atten-
tion to the child. Then shouting to his men to stop firing,
he walked out in front of the line, and came at a rapid stride
down the slope. The others all stood still and almost held
their breaths for fear some one would shoot ; but no one did.
Evelyn was so busy trying to coax Kittykin down that she
did not notice anything until she heard some one call out :
" For Heaven's sake, run into the house, quick ! "
She looked around and saw the gentleman hurrying
toward her. He appeared to be very much excited.
" What on earth are you doing out here ?" he gasped, as
he came running up to her.
He was a young man, with just a little light mustache,
and with a little gold braid on the sleeves of his gray jacket ;
and though he seemed very much surprised, he looked very
kind.
" I want my Kittykin," said Evelyn, answering him, and
looking up the tree, with a little wave of her hand, towards
where Kittykin still clung tightly. Somehow she felt at the
moment that this gentleman could help her better than any
one else.
Kittykin, however, apparently thought differently about
56 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
it ; for she suddenly stopped mewing ; and as if she felt it
unsafe to be so near a stranger, she climbed carefully up
until she reached a limb, in the crotch of which she en-
sconced herself, and peeped curiously over at them with a
look of great satisfaction in her face, as much as to say,
" Now I'm safe. I'd like to see you get me."
The gentleman was stroking Evelyn's hair, and was
looking at her very intently, when a voice called to him
from the other side :
" Hello, Johnny! what's the matter?"
Evelyn looked around, and saw another gentleman coming
toward them. He was older than the first one, and had on a
blue coat, while the first had on a gray one. She knew one
was a Confederate and the other was a Yankee, and for a
second she was afraid they might shoot each other, but her
first friend called out :
" Her kitten is up the tree. Come ahead !"
He came on, and looked for a second up at Kittykin, but
he looked at Evelyn really hard, and suddenly stooped down,
and putting his arm around her, drew her up to him. She got
over he-r fear in a minute.
"Kittykin's up there, and I'm afraid she'll be kilt." She
waved her hand up over her head, where Kittykin was taking
occasion to put a few more limbs between herself and the
enemy.
" It's rather a dangerous place when the boys are out
hunting, eh, Johnny?" He laughed as he stood up again.
SHE PLA YED IN THE WAR. 57
" Yes, for as big a fellow as you. You wouldn't stand the
ghost of a show."
" I guess I'd feel small enough up there." And both
men laughed.
By this time the men on both sides began to come up,
with their guns over their arms.
" Hello ! what's up ?" some of them called out.
" Her kitten's up," said the first two ; and, to make good
their words, Kittykin, not liking so many people below her,
shifted her position again, and went up to a fresh limb, from
which she again peeped over at them. The men all gathered
around Evelyn, and began to talk to her, and both she and
Kittykin were surprised to hear them joking and laughing
together in the friendliest way.
" What are you doing out here ?" they asked ; and to all
she made the same reply :
" I want my Kittykin."
Suddenly her mamma came out. She had just gone
down-stairs, and had learned where Evelyn was. The two
officers went up and spoke to her, but the men still crowded
around Evelyn.
" She'll come down," said one. " All you have to do is
to let her alone."
" No, she won't. She can't come down. It makes her
head swim," said Evelyn.
" That's true," thought Kittykin up in the tree, and to let
them understand it she gave a little " Mew."
58 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
" I don't see how anything can swim when it's as dry as
it is around here," said a fellow in gray.
A man in blue handed him his canteen, which he at once
accepted, and after surprising Evelyn by smelling it — which
she knew was dreadfully bad manners — turned it up to his
lips. She heard the liquid gurgling.
As he handed it back to its owner he said: "Yank, I'm
mighty glad I didn't shoot you. I might have hit that can-
teen." At which there was a laugh, and the canteen went
around until it was empty. Suddenly Kittykin from her high
perch gave a faint " Mew," which said, as plainly as words
could say it, that she wanted to get down and could not.
Evelyn's big brown eyes filled with tears. " I want my
Kittykin," she said, her little lip trembling.
Instantly a dozen men unbuckled their belts, laid their
guns on the ground, and pulled off their coats, each one try.
ing to be the first to climb the tree. It was, however, too
large for them to reach far enough around to get a good
hold on it, so climbing it was found to be far more difficult
than it looked to be.
" Why don't you cut it down ?" asked some one.
But Evelyn cried out that that would kill Kittykin, so
the man who suggested it was called a fool by the others.
At last it was proposed that one man should stand against
the tree and another should climb up on his shoulders, when
he might get his arms far enough around it to work his way
up. A stout fellow with a gray jacket on planted himself
SHE PLA YED IN THE WAR. 59
firmly against the trunk, and one who had taken off a blue
jacket climbed up on his shoulders, and might have got up
very well if he had not remarked that as the Johnnies had
walked over him in the last battle, it was but fair that he
should now walk over a Johnny. This joke tickled the man
under him so that he slipped away and let him down. At
length, however, three or four men got good " holds," and
went slowly up one after the other amid such encouraging
shouts from their friends on the ground below as : " Go it,
Yank, the Johnny's almost got you!" "Look out, Johnny,
the Yanks are right behind you ! " etc., whilst Kittykin gazed
down in astonishment from above, and Evelyn looked up
breathless from below. With much pulling and kicking,
four men finally got up to the lowest limb, after which the
climbing was comparatively easy. A new difficulty, how-
ever, presented itself. Kittykin suddenly took alarm, and
retreated still higher up among the branches.
The higher they climbed after that, the higher she climbed,
until she was away up on one of the topmost boughs, which
was far too slender for any one to follow her. There she
turned and looked back with alternate alarm and satisfaction
expressed in her countenance. If the men stirred, she stood
ready to fly ; if they kept still, she settled down and mewed
plaintively. Once or twice as they moved she took fright
and looked almost as if about to jump.
Evelyn was breathless with excitement. " Don't let her
jump," she called, "she will get kilt !"
60 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
The men, too, were anxious to prevent that. They called
to her, held out their hands, and coaxed her in every tone by
which a kitten is supposed to be influenced. But it was all
in vain. No cajoleries, no promises, no threats, were of the
least avail. Kittykin was there safe, out of their reach, and
there she would remain, sixty feet above the ground. Sud-
denly she saw that something was occurring below. She saw
the men all gather around her little mistress, and could hear
her at first refuse to let something be done, and then consent.
She could not make out what it was, though she strained her
ears. She remembered to have heard mammy tell her little
mistress once that "curiosity had killed a cat," and she was
afraid to think too much about it so high up in the tree. Still
when she heard an order given, " Go back and get your blank-
ets," and saw a whole lot of the men gfo running off into the
field on either side, and presently come back with their arms
full of blankets, she could not help wondering what they were
going to do. They at once began to unroll the blankets and
hold them open all around the tree, until a large circle of the
ground was quite hidden.
" Ah ! " said Kittykin, " it's a wicked trap ! " and she dug
her little claws deep into the bark, and made up her mind
that nothing should induce her to jump. Presently she heard
the soldiers in the tree under her call to those on the
ground :
" Are you ready ? "
And they said, " All right ! "
SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR. 61
"Ah!" said Kittykin, "they cannot get down, either.
Serves them right ! "
But suddenly they all waved their arms at her and cried,
" Scat ! "
Goodness ! The idea of crying "scat " at a kitten when
she is up in a tree ! — "scat," which fills a kitten's breast with
terror ! It was brutal, and then it was all so unexpected. It
came very near making her fall. As it was, it set her heart
to thumping and bumping against her ribs, like a marble in
a box. " Ah ! " she thought, " if those brutes below were but
mice, and I had them on the carpet ! " So she dug her claws
into the bark, which was quite tender up there, and it was
well she did, for she heard some one call something below
that sounded like " Shake !" and before she knew it the man
nearest her reached up, and, seizing the limb on which she
was, screwed up his face, and — Goodness ! it nearly shook
the teeth out of her mouth and the eyes out of her head.
Shake ! shake ! shake ! it came again, each time nearly
tearing her little claws out of their sockets and scaring her to
death. She saw the ground swim far below her, and felt that
she would be mashed to death. Shake ! shake ! shake ! shake !
She could not hold out much longer, and she spat down at
them. How those brutes below laughed ! She formed a
desperate resolve. She would get even with them. " Ah, if
they were but — " Shake ! sha — With a fierce spit, partly
of rage, partly of fear, Kittykin let go, whirled suddenly, and
flung herself on the upturned face of the man next beneath
62 KITTYKIN, AND THE PART
her, from him to the man below him, and finally, digging her
little claws deep in his flesh, sprang with a wild leap clear of
the boughs, and shot whizzing out into the air, whilst the two
men, thrown off their guard by the suddenness of the attack,
loosed their hold, and went crashing clown into the forks upon
those below.
The first thing Evelyn and the men on the ground knew
was the crash of the falling men and the sight of Kittykin
coming whizzing down, her little claws clutching wildly at
the air. Before they could see what she was, she gave a
bounce like a trap-ball as high as a man's head, and then,
as she touched the ground again, shot like a wild sky-rocket
hissing across the yard, and, with her tail all crooked to
one side and as big as her body, vanished under the house.
Oh, such a shout as there was from the soldiers ! Evelyn
heard them yelling as she ran off after Kittykin to see if
she wasn't dead. They fairly howled with delight as the
men in the tree, with scratched faces and torn clothes, came
crawling down. They looked very sheepish as they landed
among their comrades ; but the question whether Kittykin
had landed in a blanket or had hit the solid ground fifty
feet out somewhat relieved them. They all agreed that she
had bounced twenty feet.
Why Kittykin was not killed outright was a marvel. One
of her eyes was a little bunged up, the claws on three of her
feet were loosened, and for a week she felt as if she had been
run through a sausage mill ; but she never lost any of her
SHE PLA YED IN THE WAR. 63
speed. Ever afterward when she saw a soldier she would run
for life, and hide as far back under the house as she could
get, with her eyes shining like two little live coals.
For some time, indeed, she lived in perpetual terror, for
the soldiers of both lines used to come up to the house, as
the friendship they formed that day never was changed, and
though they remained on the two opposite hills for quite a
while, they never fired a shot at each other. They used in-
stead to meet and exchange tobacco and coffee, and laugh
over the way Kittykin routed their joint forces in the tree
the day of the skirmish.
As for Kittykin, she never put on any airs about it. She
did not care for that sort of glory. She never afterward
could tolerate a tree ; the earth was good enough for her ;
and the highest she ever climbed was up in her little mis-
tress's lap.
"NANCY PANSY."
i.
u 1\ T ANCY PANSY" was what Middleburgh called her,
( \ though the parish register of baptism contained
nothing nearer the name than that of one Anne,
daughter of Baylor Seddon, Esq., and Ellenor his wife.
Whatever the register may have thought about it, " Nancy
Pansy" was what Middleburgh called her, and she looked so
much like a cherub, with her great eyes laughing up at you
and her tangles blowing all about her dimpling pink face,
that Dr. Spotswood Hunter, or "the Old Doctor," as he
was known to Middleburgh, used to vow she had gotten out
of Paradise by mistake that Christmas Eve.
Nancy Pansy was the idol of the old doctor, as the old
doctor was the idol of Middleburgh. He had given her a
doll baby on the day she was born, and he always brought
her one on her birthday, though, of course, the first three or
four which he gave her were of rubber, because as long as
she was a little girl she used to chew her doll after a most
cannibal-like fashion, she and Harry's puppies taking turn
66 "NANCY PANSY.'
and turn about at chewing in the most impartial and
friendly way. Harry was the old doctor's son. As she grew
a little older, however, the doctor brought her better dolls ;
but the puppies got older faster than Nancy Pansy, and kept
on chewing up her dolls, so they did not last very long,
which, perhaps, was why she never had a " real live doll," as
she called it.
Some people said the reason the old doctor was so fond
of Nancy Pansy was because he had been a lover of her
beautiful aunt, whose picture as Charity giving Bread to the
Poor Woman and her Children was in the stained-glass win-
dow in the church, with the Advent angel in the panel below,
to show that she had died at Christmas-tide and was an angel
herself now ; some said it was because he had had a little
daughter himself who had died when a wee bit of a oirl,
and Nancy Pansy reminded him of her ; some said it was
because his youngest born, his boy Harry, with the light
hair, who now commanded a company in the Army of North-
ern Virginia, was so fond of Nancy Pansy's lovely sister
Ellen ; some said it was because the old doctor was fond of
all children ; but the old doctor said it was "because Nancy
Pansy was Nancy Pansy," and looked like an angel, and had
more sense than anybody in Middleburgh, except his old
sorrel horse Slouch, who, he always maintained, had sense
enough to have prevented the war if he had been consulted.
Whatever was the cause, Nancy Pansy was the old doc-
tor's boon companion ; and wherever the old doctor was,
'■NANCY PANSY." . 07
whether in his old rattling brown buggy, with Slouch jog-
ging sleepily along the dusty roads which Middleburgh
called her "streets," or sitting in the shadiest corner of his
porch, Nancy Pansy was in her waking hours generally be-
side him, her great pansy-colored eyes and her sunny hair
makine a bright contrast to the white locks and tanned
cheeks of the old man. His home was just across the fence
from the big house in which Nancy Pansy lived, and there
was a hole where two palings were pulled off, through which
Nancy Pansy used to slip when she went back and forth,
and through which her little black companion, whose name,
according to Nancy Pansy's dictionary, was " Marphy," just
could squeeze. Sometimes, indeed, Nancy Pansy used to
fall asleep over at the old doctor's on the warm summer
afternoons, and wake up next morning, curiously enough, to
find herself in a strange room, in a great big bed, with a rail-
ing around the top of the high bedposts, and curtains hang-
ing from it, and with Marphy asleep on a pallet near by.
" That child is your shadow, doctor," said Nancy Pansy's
mother one day to him.
" No, madam ; she is my sunshine," answered the old
man, gravely.
Nancy Pansy's mother smiled, for when the old doctor
said a thing he meant it. All Middleburgh knew that, from
old Slouch, who never would open his eyes for any one else,
and old Mrs. Hippin, who never would admit she was better
to any one else, up to Nancy Pancy herself. Perhaps this
68 , "NANCY PANSY."
was the reason why when the war broke out, and all the
other men went into the army, the old doctor, who was too
old and feeble to go himself, but had sent his only son
Harry, was chosen by tacit consent as Middleburgh's general
adviser and guardian. Thus it was he who had to advise
Mrs. Latimer, the druggist's wife, how to keep the little
apothecary's shop at the corner of the Court-house Square
after her husband went into the army ; and it was he who
advised Mrs. Seddon to keep the post-office in the little
building at the bottom of her lawn, which had served as her
husband's law office before he went off to the war at the head
of the Middleburgh Artillery. He even gave valuable assist-
ance as well as advice to Mrs. Hippin about curing her
chickens of the gapes ; and to Nancy Pansy's great astonish-
ment had several times performed a most remarkable oper-
ation by inserting a hair from old Slouch's mane down the
invalid's little stretched throat.
He used to go around the town nearly every afternoon,
seeing the healthy as well as the sick, and giving advice as
well as physic, both being taken with equal confidence. It
was what he called "reviewing his out-posts," and he used to
explain to Nancy Pansy that that was the way her father and
his Harry did in their camp. Nancy Pansy did not wholly
understand him, but she knew it was something that was just
right; so she nodded gravely, and said, " Umh-hmh !"
It was not hard to get a doll the first year of the war, but
before the second year was half over there was not one left
■NANCY PANSY." 69
in Middleburgh. The old doctor explained to Nancy Pansy
that they had all gone away to the war. She did not quite
understand what dollies had to do with fighting, but she
knew that war made the dolls disappear. Still she kept on
talking about the new doll she would get on her birthday at
Christmas, and as the old doctor used to talk to her about it,
and discuss the sort of hair it should have, and the kind of
dress it should wear, she never doubted that she should get it
in her stocking as usual on Christmas morning.
II.
THE old doctor's boots were very bad — those old boots
which Middleburgh knew as well as they knew Nancy
Pansy's eyes or the church steeple. Mrs. Seddon had
taken the trouble to scold him one day in the autumn when
she heard him coughing, and she had sent him a small roll of
money " on account," she wrote him, " of a long bill," to get
a pair of new boots. The old doctor never sent in a bill ; he
would as soon have sent a small-pox patient into Nancy
Pansy's play-room. He calmly returned the money, saying he
never transacted business with women who had husbands, and
that he had always dressed to suit himself, at which Mrs.
Seddon laughed ; for, like the rest of Middleburgh, she knew
that those old boots never stood back for any weather, how-
ever bad. She arranged, however, to have a little money sent
to him through the post-office from another town without any
name to the letter enclosing it. But the old boots were still
worn, and Nancy Pansy, at her mother's suggestion, learned
to knit, that she might have a pair of yarn socks knit for
the old doctor at Christmas. She intended to have kept this
a secret, and she did keep it from every one but the doctor ;
she did not quite tell even him, but she could not help mak-
"NANCY PANSY." 71
ing him " guess " about it. Christmas Eve she went over to
the old doctor's, and whilst she made him shut his eyes, hung
up his stocking herself, into which she poked a new pair of
very queer-shaped yarn socks, a little black in some places
from her little hands, for they were just done, and there had
not been time to wash them. She consulted the old doctor
to know if he really — really, "now, really" — thought Santa
Claus would bring her a doll "through the war;" but she
could only get a "perhaps" out of him, for he said he
had not heard from Harry.
It was about ten o'clock that night when the old doctor
came home from his round of visits, and opening his old
secretary, took out a long thin bundle wrapped in paper,
and slipping it into his pocket, went out again into the snow
which was falling. Old Limpid, the doctor's man, had taken
Slouch to the stable, so the old doctor walked, stumbling
around through the dark by the gate, thinking with a sigh
of his boy Harry, who would just have vaulted over the
palings, and who was that night sleeping in the snow some-
where. However, he smiled when he put the bundle into
Nancy Pansy's long stocking, and he smiled again when he
put his old worn boots to the fire and warmed his feet.
But when Nancy Pansy slipped next morning through her
" little doctor's-gate," as she called her hole in the fence, and
burst into his room before he was out of bed, to show him
with dancing eyes what Santa Claus had brought her, and
announced that she had " named her ' Harry,' all herself,"
72 "NANCY PANSY.'
the old doctor had to wipe his eyes before he could really
see her.
Harry was the first "real doll" Nancy Pansy had ever
had — that was what she said — and Harry soon became as
well known in Middleburgh as Nancy Pansy herself. She
used to accompany Nancy Pansy and the old doctor on their
rounds, and instead of the latter two being called " the
twins," they and Harry were now dubbed "the triplets." It
was astonishing what an influence Harry came to have on
Nancy Pansy's life. She carried her everywhere, and the
doll would frequently be seen sitting up in the old doctor's
buggy alone, whilst Slouch dozed in the sun outside of some
patient's door. Of course, so much work as Harry had to do
had the effect of marring her freshness a good deal, and
she met with one or two severe accidents, such as break-
ing her leg, and cracking her neck ; but the old doctor
attended her in the gravest way, and performed such success-
ful operations that really she was, except as to looks, almost
as good as new ; besides, as Nancy Pansy explained, dolls
had to have measles and " theseases " just like other folks.
III.
IN March, 1 86- Middleburgh "fell." That is, it fell into
the hands of the Union army, and remained in their
hands afterwards. It was terrible at first, and Nancy
Pansy stuffed Harry into a box, and hid her away.
It was awfully lonesome, however, and to think of the
way Harry was doubled up and cramped down in that box
under the floor was dreadful. So at last, finding that what-
ever else they did, the soldiers did not trouble her, she took
Harry out. But she never could go about with her as
before, for of course things were different, and although she
got over her fright at the soldiers, as did her sister Ellen and
the rest of Middleburgh, they never were friendly. Indeed,
sometimes they were just the reverse, and at last they got to
such a pitch that the regiment which was there was taken
away, and a new regiment, or, rather, two new companies,
were sent there. These were Companies A and C of the
— th Regiment of Veterans. They had been originally
known as Volunteers, but now they were known as " Vet-
erans," because they had been in so many battles.
The — th were perhaps the youngest men in that depart-
ment, being mainly young college fellows who had enlisted
74 "NANCY PANSY."
all together. Some of the regiments composed of older men
were at first inclined to laugh at the smooth-faced youngsters
who could hardly raise a mustache to a mess ; but when
these same rosy-cheeked fellows flung off their knapsacks in
battle after battle, and went rushing ahead under a hail of
bullets and shell, they changed their tune and dubbed them
"The Baby Veterans." Thus, in 186-, the Baby Veterans
went to Middleburgh for a double purpose : — first, that they
might recruit and rest ; and, secondly, because for the past
six months Middleburgh had been causing much worry, and
was regarded as a nest of treason and trouble. The regi-
ment which had been there before was a new regiment, not
long since recruited, and had been in a continual quarrel
with Middleburgh, and as Middleburgh consisted mainly of
women and children, and a few old men, there was not much
honor to be eot out of rows with them. Middleburgfh com-
plained that the soldiers were tyrannical and caused the
trouble ; the soldiers insisted that Middleburgh was con-
stantly breaking the regulations, and conducted itself in a
high-handed and rebellious way, and treated them with open
scorn. As an evidence, it was cited that the women in
Middleburgh would not speak to the Union soldiers. And
it was rumored that the girls there were uncommonly pretty.
When the Baby Veterans heard this, they simply laughed,
pulled their budding mustaches, and announced that they
would "keep things straight in Middleburgh."
Tom Adams was first lieutenant of Company C. He
"NANCY PANSY." 75
had enlisted as a private, and had been rapidly promoted to
corporal, sergeant, and then lieutenant ; and he was in a fair
way to be captain soon, as the captain of his company was
at home badly wounded, and if he should be permanently dis-
abled, Tom was certain of the captaincy. If any man could
bring Middleburgh to terms, Tom Adams was the man, so
his friends declared, and they would like to see any woman
who would refuse to speak to Tom Adams — they really
would.
The Baby Veterans reached Middleburgh in the night,
and took up their quarters on the Court-house Square, va-
cated by the regiment which had just left. When morning
came they took a look at Middleburgh, and determined to
intimidate it on the spot. They drilled, marched and
counter-marched up and down the dusty streets, and around
the old whitewashed court-house, to show that they meant
business, and did not propose to stand any foolishness —
not they.
Nancy Pansy and her sister Ellen had been with Harry
to see old Mrs. Hippin, who was sick, to carry her some
bread and butter, and were returning home about mid-day.
They had not seen the new soldiers, and were hurrying along,
hoping they might not see them, when they suddenly heard
the drums and fifes playing, and turning the corner, they saw
the soldiers between them and their gate, marching up the
road toward them. A tall young officer was at their head ;
his coat was buttoned up very tight, and he carried his drawn
NANCY PANSY."
sword with the handle in his right hand and the tip in his
left, and carried his head very high. It was Tom Adams.
Nancy Pansy caught tight hold of her sister's hand, and
clasped Harry closely to her bosom. For a second they
stopped ; then, as there was no help for it, they started for-
ward across the road, just in front of the soldiers. They
were so close that Nancy Pansy was afraid they would march
over them, and she would have liked to run. She clutched
sister's hand hard ; but her sister did not quicken her pace at
all, and the young officer had to give the order, " Mark time
— march!" to let them pass. He looked very grand as
he drew himself up, but Nancy Pansy's sister held her hand
firmly, and took not the slightest notice of him. Lifting her
head defiantly in the air, and keeping her dark eyes straight
before her, she passed with Nancy Pansy within two steps
of the young lieutenant and his drawn sword, neither quick-
ening nor slowing her pace a particle. They might have
seemed not to know that a Federal soldier was within a
hundred miles of them but for the way that Nancy Pansy
squeezed Harry, and the scornful air which sat on her sister's
stern little face and erect figure as she drew Nancy Pansy
closer to her, and gathered up her skirts daintily in her small
hand, as though they might be soiled by an accidental
touch.
Tom Adams had a mind to give the order " Forward !"
and make them run out of the way, but he did not do it, so
he marched back to camp, and told the story to his mess,
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79
walking around the table, holding the table-cloth in his hand,
to show how the little rebel had done. He vowed he would
get even with her.
As the days went on, the Baby Veterans and Middleburgh
came no nearer being acquainted than they were that morn-
ing. The Baby Veterans still drilled, and paraded, and set
pickets all around the town ; Middleburgh and Nancy Pansy
still picked up their skirts and passed by with uplifted heads
and defiant eyes. The Baby Veterans shouted on the Court-
house Square, " Yankee Doodle " and the " Star-spangled
Banner;" Middleburgh sang on its verandas and in its par-
lors, " Dixie " and the " Bonnie Blue Flag." Perhaps, some
evenings Middleburgh may have stopped its own singing, and
have stolen out on its balconies to listen to the rich chorus
which came up from the Court-house Grove, bat if so, the
Baby Veterans never knew it ; or perhaps, the Baby Veterans
some evenings may have strolled along the shadowed streets,
or stretched themselves out on the grass to listen to the
sweet voices which floated down from the embowered veran-
das in the Judge's yard ; if so, Middleburgh never guessed it.
Nancy Pansy used to sing sweetly, and she would often
sing whilst her sister played for her.
The strict regulations established by the soldiers pre-
vented any letters from going or coming unopened, and
Middleburgh never would tolerate that. So the only mail
which passed through the office was that which the Baby
Veterans received or sent. As stated, Nancy Pansy's
8o "NANCY PANSY."
mother, by the old doctor's advice and for reasons good
to her and her friends, still kept the post-office, under a
sort of surveillance, yet the intercourse with the soldiers
was strictly official ; the letters were received or were deliv-
ered by the postmistress in silence, or if the Baby Veterans
asked a question it was generally replied to by a haughty
bow, or an ungracious " No."
One mail day Mrs. Seddon was ill, so Nancy Pansy's sis-
ter Ellen had to go to open the mail, and Nancy Pansy went
with her, taking Harry along, " to take care of them."
It happened that Tom Adams and a friend came in to ask
for their letters. Nancy Pansy's sister was standing at the
table arranging the mail, and Nancy Pansy was sitting up on
the table by her, holding the battered but cherished Harry in
her lap. The young officer stiffened up as he saw who was
before him.
" Are there any letters for Lieutenant Adams ?" he asked,
in a very formal and stately manner.
There was no reply or motion to show that he had been
heard, except that Nancy Pansy's sister began to go over the
letters again from the beginning of the A's. Suddenly Nancy
Pansy, who was watching her, saw one, and exclaiming, " Oh!
there's one ! " seized it, and slipped down from the table to
give it to its owner, proud to show that she could read writ-
ing. Before she had reached the window, however, her sis-
ter caught her quickly, and taking the letter from her, slowly
advanced and handed it to the youncj soldier; then turnine
NANCY PANSY."
quietly away, she took out her handkerchief and wiped her
hand very hard where it had touched the letter, as if it had
been soiled. The young officer strode out of the door with
a red face and an angry step, and that evening the story of
the way the little rebel wiped her hands after touching Tom
Adams's letter was all over camp.
IV.
AFTER this it was pretty well understood that the Baby
Veterans and Middleburgh were at war. The regu-
lations were more strictly enforced than ever before,
and for a while it looked as if it was opting t De as bad as it
o o
was when the other regiment was there. Old Limpid, the
old doctor's man, was caught one night with some letters on
his person, several of them addressed to " Captain Harry
Hunter, Army of Northern Virginia," etc., and was some-
what severely dealt with, though, perhaps fortunately for him
and his master, the letters, one of which was in a feminine
hand, whilst abusive of the soldiers, did not contain any in-
formation which justified very severe measures, and after a
warning he was set free again.
Nancy Pansy's sister Ellen was enraged next day to re-
ceive again her letter from a corporal's guard, indorsed with
an official stamp, " Returned by order," etc. She actually
cried about it.
Nancy Pansy had written a letter to Harry, too — not her
own Harry, but the old doctor's — and hers came back also ;
but she did not cry about it, for she had forgotten to tell
Harry that she had a kitten.
" NANCY PANSY." 83
Still it was very bad ; for after that even the old doctor
was once more subjected to the strict regulations which had
existed before the Baby Veterans came, and he could no
longer drive in and out at will, as he and Nancy Pansy had
been doing since the regiment arrived.
It was not, however, long after this that Nancy Pansy had
quite an adventure. She and Harry had been with the old
doctor, and the old doctor had to go and see some children
with the measles, so, as Harry had never had measles, he
sent her and Nancy Pansy back; but Nancy Pansy had found
an old cigar-box, which was a treasure, and would have made
a splendid cradle for Harry, except that it was so short that
when Harry's legs were put into it, her head and shoulders
stuck up, and when her body was in it, her legs hung out.
Still, if it would not do for a cradle, she had got a piece
of string, and it would do for a carriage. So she was com-
ing home very cheerfully, thinking of the way Harry would
enjoy her ride down the walk.
It was just at this time that Tom Adams, feeling thor-
oughly bored with his surroundings, left camp and sauntered
up the street alone, planning how he could get his company
ordered once more to the front. He could not stand this
life any longer. As he strolled along the walk the sound of
the cheerful voices of girls behind the magnolias and rose
bowers came to him, and a wave of homesickness swept over
him as he thought of his sisters and little nieces away up
North.
84 "NANCY PANSY. 1 '
Suddenly, as he turned a corner, he saw a small figure
walking slowly along before him ; the great straw hat on the
back of her head almost concealed the little body, but her
sunny hair was peeping down below the broad brim, and
Adams knew the child.
She carried under her arm an old cigar-box, out of one
end of which peeped the head and shoulders of an old doll,
the feet of which stuck out of the other end. A string hung
from the box, and trailed behind her on the pathway. She
appeared to be very busy about something, and to be per-
fectly happy, for as she walked along she was singing out of
her content a wordless little song of her heart, " Tra-la-la,
tra-la-la."
The young officer fell into the same gait with the child,
and instinctively trod softly to keep from disturbing her.
Just then, however, a burly fellow named Griff O'Meara, who
had belonged to one of the companies which preceded them,
and had been transferred to Adams's company, came down a
side street, and turned into the walkway just behind the little
maid. He seemed to be tipsy. The trailing string caught
his eye, and he tipped forward and tried to step on it.
Adams did not take in what the fellow was trying to do until
he attempted it the second time. Then he called to him, but
it was too late ; he had stepped on the cord, and jerked the
box, doll and all, from the child's arm. The doll fell, face
down, on a stone and broke to pieces. The man gave a
great laugh, as the little girl turned, with a cry of anguish,
NANCY PANSY." 85
and stooping, began to pick up the fragments, weeping in a
low, pitiful way. In a second Adams sprang forward, and
struck the fellow a blow between the eyes which sent him
staggering off the sidewalk, down in the road, flat on his
back. He rose with an oath, but Adams struck him a
second blow which laid him out again, and the fellow, find-
ing him to be an officer, was glad to slink off. Adams then
turned to the child, whose tears, which had dried for a
moment in her alarm at the fight, now began to flow again
over her doll.
" Her pretty head's all broke ! Oh — oh — oh ! " she
sobbed, trying vainly to get the pieces to fit into something
like a face.
The young officer sat down on the ground by her.
" Never mind, sissy," he said, soothingly, " let me see if I can
help you."
She confidingly handed him the fragments, whilst she
tried to stifle her sobs, and wiped her eyes with her little
pinafore.
"Can you do it?" she asked, dolefully, behind her pina-
fore.
" I hope so. What's your name ?"
" Nancy Pansy, and my dolly's named Harry."
" Harry ! " Tom looked at the doll's dress and the frag-
ments of face, which certainly were not masculine.
"Yes, Harry Hunter. He's my sweetheart," she looked
at him to see that he understood her.
86 "NANCY PANSY."
"Ah!"
" And sister's," she nodded, confidently.
"Yes, I see. Where is he?"
" He's a captain now. He's gone away — away." She
waved her hand in a wide sweep to give an idea of the great
distance it was. " He's in the army."
"Come along with me," said Tom; "let's see what we
can do." He gathered up all the broken pieces in his hand-
kerchief, and set out in the direction from which he had
come, Nancy Pansy at his side. She slipped her little hand
confidingly into his.
"You knocked that bad man down for me, didn't you?"
she said, looking up into his face. Tom had not felt until
then what a hero he had been.
" Yes," he said, quite graciously. The little warm fingers
worked themselves yet further into his palm.
At the corner they turned up the street toward the Court-
house Square, and in a few minutes were in camp. At the
sight of the child with Adams the whole camp turned out
pell-mell, as if the " long-roll " had beat.
At first Nancy Pansy was a little shy, there was so much
excitement, and she clung tightly to Tom Adams's hand.
She soon found, however, that they were all friendly.
Tom conducted her to his tent, where she was placed in
a great chair, with a horse-cover over it, as a sort of throne.
The story of O'Meara's act excited so much indignation
that Tom felt it necessary to explain fully the punishment
he had given him.
■NANCY PANSY." S7
Nancy Pansy, feeling that she had an interest in the
matter, suddenly took up the narrative.
" Yes, he jus' knocked him down," she said, with the
most charming confidence, to her admiring audience, her
pink cheeks glowing and her great eyes lighting up at the
recital, as she illustrated Tom's act with a most expressive
gesture of her by no means clean little fist.
The soldiers about her burst into a roar of delighted
laughter, and made her tell them again and again how it
was done, each time renewing their applause over the 'cute
way in which she imitated Tom's act. Then they all insisted
on being formally introduced, so Nancy Pansy was stood
upon the table, and the men came by in line, one by one,
and were presented to her. It was a regular levee.
Presently she said she must go home, so she was taken
down ; but before she was allowed to leave, she was invited
to go through the camp, each man insisting that she should
visit his tent. She made, therefore, a complete tour, and in
every tent some souvenir was pressed upon her, or she was
begged to take her choice of its contents. Thus, before she
had gone far, she had her arms full of things, and a string
of men were following' her bearing- the articles she had hon-
ored them by accepting. There were little looking-glasses,
pin-cushions, pairs of scissors, pictures, razors, bits of gold-
lace, cigar-holders, scarf-pins, and many other things.
When she left camp she was quite piled up with things,
whilst Tom Adams, who acted as her escort, marched behind
88 "NANCY PANSY:'
her with a large basketful besides. She did not have room
to take Harry, so she left her behind, on the assurance of
Tom that she should be mended, and on the engagement of
the entire company to take care of her. The soldiers fol-
lowed her to the edge of the camp, and exacted from her a
promise to come again next day, which she agreed to do if
her mother would let her. And when she was out of sight,
the whole command held a council of war over the fragments
of Harry.
When Adams reached the Judge's gate he made a negro
who was passing take the basket in, thinking it better not to
go himself up to the house. He said good-by, and Nancy
Pansy started up the walk, whilst he waited at the gate.
Suddenly she turned and came back.
" Good-by!" she said, standing on tiptoe, and putting up
her little face to be kissed.
The young officer stooped over the gate and kissed her.
"Good-by! Come again to-morrow."
"Yes, if mamma will let me." And she tripped away
with her armful of presents.
Tom Adams remained leaning on the gate. He was
thinking of his home far away. Suddenly he was aroused by
hearing the astonished exclamations in the house as Nancy
Pansy entered. He felt sure that they were insisting that
the things should be sent back, and fearing that he mieht be
seen, he left the spot and went slowly back to camp, where
he found the soldiers still in a state of pleasurable excite-
"NAXCY PANSY." S 9
ment over Nancy Pansy's visit. A collection was taken up
for a purpose which appeared to interest everybody, and a
cap nearly full of money was delivered to Tom Adams, with
as many directions as to what he was to do with it as though
it were to get a memorial for the Commander-in-chief. Tom
said he had already determined to do the very same thing
himself; still, if the company wished to "go in" with him,
they could do it; so he agreed to take the money.
V.
ON the day following Nancy Pansy's visit to the camp
of the Baby Veterans, Adams took to the post-office
a bundle addressed to " Nancy Pansy," and a letter
addressed to a friend of his who was in Washington. The
bundle contained " Harry," as fully restored as her shattered
state would admit of ; the letter contained a draft and a
commission, the importance of which latter Captain Adams
had put in the very strongest light.
He held his head very high as he dropped his letter into
the box, for over the table bent the slender figure of the
little dark-eyed postmistress, who had wiped her dainty
fingers so carefully after handling his letter. Perched near
her on the table, just as she had been that day, with her
tangled hair all over her face, was Nancy Pansy. She was,
as usual, very busy over something ; but, hearing a step, she
glanced up.
" Oh, there's Tom Adams !" she exclaimed ; and, turning
over on her face, she slipped down from the table and ran
up to him, putting up her face to be kissed, just as she
always did to the old doctor.
Adams stooped over and kissed her, though, as he did
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NANCY PANSY." 93
so, he heard her sister turn around, and he felt as if she
might be going to shoot him in the back. He straightened
up with defiance in his heart. She was facing him ; but
what was his astonishment when she advanced, and with a
little smile on her lovely face, said :
" Captain Adams, I am Miss Seddon. My mother has
desired me to thank you in her name, and in all our names,
for your act of protection to my little sister on yesterday."
" Yes," said Nancy Pansy ; " he jus' knocked that bad
man down," and she gave her little head a nod of satisfac-
tion to one side.
The young officer blushed to his eyes. He was prepared
for an attack, but not for such a flank movement. He stam-
mered something about not having done anything at all
worthy of thanks, and fell back behind Harry, whom he sud-
denly pulled out and placed in Nancy Pansy's hands. It all
ended in an invitation from Mrs. Seddon, through Nancy
Pansy and her pretty sister, to come up to the house and be
thanked, which he accepted.
After this the Baby Veterans and Middleburgh came
to understand each other a good deal better than before.
Instead of remaining in their camp or marching up and
down the streets, with arrogance or defiance stamped on
every face and speaking from every figure, the Baby Vet-
erans took to loafing about town in off-duty hours, hang-
ing- over the eates, or saunterinsf in the autumn twilight
up and down the quiet walks. They and Middleburgh
94 "NANCY PANSY:
still recognized that there was a broad ground, on which
neither could trespass. The Baby Veterans still sang "The
Star-spangled Banner" in the Court-house Grove, and
Middleburoh still sany- "Dixie" and the "Bonnie Blue
Flag " behind her rose trellises ; but there was no more
gathering up of skirts, and disdainful wiping of hands after
handling letters ; and the old doctor was allowed to go
jogging about on his rounds, with Nancy Pansy and the
scarred Harry at his side, as unmolested as if the Baby
Veterans had never pitched their tents on the Court-house
Square. It is barely possible that even the rigid invest-
ment of the town relaxed a little as the autumn changed
into winter, for once or twice old Limpid disappeared for
several days, as he used to do before his arrest, and Nancy
Pansy's pretty sister used to get letters from Harry, who
was now a major. Nancy Pansy heard whispers of Harry's
coming before long, and even of the whole army's coming.
Somehow a rumor of this must have reached the authori-
ties, though Nancy Pans}' never breathed a word of it ; for
an officer was sent down to investigate the matter and
report immediately.
Just as he arrived he received secret word from some one
that a rebel officer was actually in Middleburgh.
That afternoon Nancy Pansy was playing in the bottom
of the yard when a lot of soldiers came along the street,
and before them rode a strange, cross-looking; man with a
beard. Tom Adams was marching with the soldiers, and
"NAACY PANSY." 95
he did not look at all pleased. They stopped at the old
doctor's gate, and the strange man trotted up to her place
and asked Nancy Pansy if she knew Captain Harry Hunter.
"Yes, indeed," said Nancy Pansy, going up to the fence
and poking her little rosy face over it ; " Harry's a major
now."
" Ah ! Harry's a major now, is he ? " said the strange
man.
Nancy Pansy went on to tell him how her Harry was
named after the other Harry, and how she was all broken
now ; but the officer was intent on something else.
" Where is Harry now?" he asked her.
" In the house," and she waved her hand toward the
old doctor's house behind her.
" So, so," said the officer, and went back to Tom Adams,
who looked annoyed, and said :
" I don't believe it; there's some mistake."
At this the strange man got angry and said : " Lieuten-
ant Adams, if you don't want the rebel caught, you can go
back to camp."
My! how angry Tom was ! His face got perfectly white,
and he said : " Major Black, you are my superior, or you
wouldn't dare to speak so to me. I have nothing to say
now, but some day I'll out-rank you."
Nancy Pansy did not know what they were talking
about, but she did not like the strange man at all ; so
when he asked her: "Won't you show me where Harry
96 "NANCY PANSY."
is?" at first she said "No," and then "Yes, if you won't
hurt him."
" No, indeed," said the man. As Tom Adams was there
she was not afraid ; so she went outside the grate and on
into the old doctor's yard, followed by the soldiers and Tom
Adams, who still looked angry, and told her she'd better run
home. Some of the soldiers went around behind the house.
" Where is he ? " the strange gentleman asked.
" Asleep up-stairs in the company-room," said Nancy
Pansy in a whisper. "You mustn't make any noise."
She opened the door and they entered the house, Nancy
Pansy on tiptoe and the others stepping softly. She was
surprised to see the strange man draw a pistol ; but she
was used to seeing pistols, so, though Tom Adams told her
again to run home, she stayed there.
"Which is the company-room?" asked the strange man.
She pointed to the door at the head of the steps.
" That's it."
He turned to the soldiers.
" Come ahead, men," he said, in a low voice, and ran
lightly up the stairs, looking very fierce. When he reached
the door he seized the knob and dashed into the room.
Then Nancy Pansy heard him say some naughty words,
and she ran up the stairs to see what was the matter.
They were all standing around the big bed on which
she had laid Harry an hour before, with her head on a
pillow ; but a jerk of the counterpane had thrown Harry
NANCY PANSY: 97
over on her face, and her broken neck and ear looked very
bad.
" Oh, you've waked her up ! " cried Nancy Pansy, rush-
ing- forward, and turning the doll over.
The strange man stamped out of the room, looking per-
fectly furious, and the soldiers all laughed. Tom Adams
looked pleased.
7
VI.
WHEN Tom Adams next called at the Judge's, he
found the atmosphere much cooler within the
house than it was outside. He had been waiting
alone in the drawing-room for some time when Nancy Pansy
entered. She came in very slowly, and instead of running
immediately up to him and greeting him as she usually did,
she seated herself on the edge of a chair and looked at him
with manifest suspicion. He stretched out his hand to her.
" Come over, Nancy Pansy, and sit on my knee."
Nancy Pansy shook her head.
" My sister don't like you," she said slowly, eying him
askance.
" Ah ! " He let his hand fall on the arm of the chair.
" No ; and I don't, either," said Nancy Pansy, more
confidently.
" Why doesn't she like me ?" asked Tom Adams.
" Because you are so mean. She says you are just like
all the rest of 'em ; " and, pleased at her visitor's interest,
■Nancy Pansy wriggled herself higher up on her chair, pre-
pared to give him further details.
" We don't like you at all," said the child, half conn-
"NANCY PANSY:
99
dentially and half defiantly. " We like our side ; we like
Confederates." Tom Adams smiled. " We like Harry ; we
don't like you."
She looked as defiant as possible, and just then a step
was heard in the hall, approaching very slowly, and Nancy
Pansy's sister appeared in the doorway. She was dressed
in white, and she carried her head even higher than usual.
The visitor rose. He thought he had never seen her
look so pretty.
" Good-evening," he said.
She bowed " Good-evening," very slowly, and took a seat
on a straight-backed chair in a corner of the room, ignoring
the chair which Adams offered her.
" I have not seen you for some time," he began.
" No ; I suppose you have been busy searching people's
houses," she said.
Tom Adams flushed a little.
" I carry out my orders," he said. " These I must
enforce."
"Ah!"
Nancy Pansy did not just understand it all, but she
saw there was a battle going on, and she at once aligned
herself with her side, and going over, stood by her sister's
chair, and looked defiance at the enemy.
" Well, we shall hardly agree about this, so we won't
discuss it," said Tom Adams. " I did not come to talk
about this, but to see you, and to get you to sing for me."
"NANCY PANSY:
Refusal spoke so plainly in her face that he added : " Or,
if you won't sing, to. get Nancy Pansy to sing for me."
"/won't sing for you," declared Nancy Pansy, promptly
and decisively.
" What incorrigible rebels all of you are !" said Tom
Adams, smiling. He was once more at his ease, and he
pulled his chair up nearer Nancy Pansy's sister, and caught
Nancy Pansy by the hand. She was just trying to pull
away, when there were steps on the walk outside — the
regular tramp, tramp of soldiers marching in some num-
bers. They came up to the house, and some order was
given in a low tone. Both Adams and Nancy Pansy's
sister sprang to their feet.
"What can it mean ?" asked Nancy Pansy's sister, more
to herself than to Adams.
He went into the hall just as there was a loud rap at
the front door.
"What is it ?" he asked the lieutenant who stood there.
" Some one has slipped through the lines, and is in this
house," he said.
Nancy Pansy's sister stepped out into the hall.
" There is no one here," she said. She looked at Tom
Adams. " I give my word there is no one in the house
except my mother, ourselves, and the servants." She met
Tom Adams's gaze frankly as he looked into her eyes.
" There is no one here, Hector," he said, turning to the
officer.
■NANCY PANSY."
" This is a serious matter," began the other, hesitatingly.
" We have eood grounds to believe "
" I will be responsible," said Tom Adams, firmly. " I
have been here some time, and there is no one here." He
took the officer aside and talked to him a moment.
" All right," said he, as he went down the steps, " as you
are so positive."
" I am," said Tom.
The soldiers marched down the walk, out of the gate,
and around the corner. Just as the sound of their foot-
steps died away on the soft road, Tom Adams turned and
faced Nancy Pansy's sister. She was leaning against a pil-
lar, looking down, and a little moonlight sifted through the
rose-bushes and fell on her neck. Nancy Pansy had gone
into the house. " I am sorry I said what I did in the parlor
just now." She looked up at him.
" Oh ! " said Tom Adams, and moved his hand a little.
" I — " he began ; but just then there was a sudden scamper
in the hall, and Nancy Pansy, with flying hair and dancing
eyes, came rushing out on the portico.
"Oh, sister!" she panted. "Harry's come; he's in
mamma's room ! "
Nancy Pansy's sister turned deadly white. " Oh, Nancy
Pansy ! " she gasped, placing her hand over her mouth.
Nancy Pansy burst into tears, and buried her face in
her sister's dress. She had not seen Tom Adams ; she
thought he had gone.
io2 "NANCY PANSY."
" I did not know it," said Nancy Pansy's sister, turning
and facing Tom Adams's stern gaze.
" I believe you," he said, slowly. He felt at his side ;
but he was in a fatigue suit, and had no arms. Without fin-
ishing his sentence he sprang over the railing, and with a long,
swift stride went down the yard. She dimly saw him as he
sprang over the fence, and heard him call, " Oh, Hector ! "
As he did so, she rushed into the house. " Fly ! they
are coming ! " she cried, bursting into her mother's room.
" Oh, Harry, they are coming ! " she cried, rushing up to a
handsome young fellow, who sprang to his feet as she
entered, and went forward to meet her.
The young man took her hand and drew her to him.
" Well," he said, looking down into her eyes, and drawing a
long breath.
Nancy Pansy's sister put her face on his shoulder and
began to cry, and Nancy Pansy rushed into her mother's
arms and cried too.
Ten minutes later soldiers came in both at the front
and back doors. Mrs. Seddon met her visitors in the hall.
Nancy Pansy's sister was on one side, and Nancy Pansy
on the other.
Tom Adams was in command. He removed his hat,
but said, gravely : " I must arrest the young rebel officer
who is here."
Nancy Pansy made a movement ; but her mother tight-
ened her clasp of her hand.
NANCY PANSY." 103
" Yes," she said, bowing. That was all.
Guards were left at the doors, and soldiers went through
the house. The search was thorough, but the game had
escaped. They were coming down the steps when some
one said :
" We must search the shrubbery ; he will be there."
" No ; he is at his father's — the old doctor's," said
Adams.
It was said in an undertone, but Mrs. Seddon's face
whitened ; Nancy Pansy caught it, too. She clutched her
mother's gown.
" Oh, mamma ! you hear what he says ? "
Her mother stooped and whispered to her.
" Yes, yes," nodded Nancy Pansy. She ran to the door,
and poking her little head out, looked up and down the por-
tico, calling, " Kitty, kitty !"
The sentry who was standing there holding his gun
moved a little, and, leaning out, peered into the dusk.
" 'Tain't out here," he said, in a friendly tone.
Nancy Pansy slipped past him, and went down the steps
and around the portico, still calling, " Kitty ! Kitty ! Kitty !"
" Who goes there ? " called a soldier, as he saw some-
thing move over near the old doctor's fence ; but when he
heard a childish voice call, " Kitty ! Kitty ! " he dropped
his gun again with a laugh. "'Tain't nobody but that
little gal, Nancy Pansy ; blest if I wa'n't about to shoot
her!"
io 4 "NANCY PANSY.'
The next instant Nancy Pansy had slipped through her
little hole in the fence, through which she had so often
gone, and was in the old doctor's yard ; and when, five min-
utes afterward, Tom Adams marched his men up the walk
and surrounded and entered the house, Nancy Pansy, her
broken doll in her arms, was sitting demurely on the edge
of a large chair, looking at him with great, wide-open, danc-
ing eyes. A little princess could not have been grander,
and if she had hidden Harry Hunter behind her chair, she
could not have shown more plainly that she had given
him warning.
VII.
ALL Middleburgh knew next day how Nancy Pansy
had saved Harry Hunter, and it was still talking
about it, when it was one morning astonished by
the news that old Dr. Hunter had been arrested in the
night by the soldiers, who had come down from Washing-
ton, and had been carried off somewhere. There had not
been such excitement since the Middleburgh Artillery had
marched away to the war. The old doctor was sacred.
Why, to carry him off, and stop his old buggy rattling
about the streets, was, in Middleburgh's eyes, like stopping
the chariot of the sun, or turning the stars out of their
courses. Why did they not arrest Nancy Pansy too ?
asked Middleburgh. Nancy Pansy cried all day, and many
times after, whenever she thought about it. She went to
Tom Adams's camp and begged him to bring her old doc-
tor back, and Tom Adams said as he had not had him
arrested he could not tell what he could do, but he would
do all he could. Then she wrote the old doctor a letter.
However, all Middleburgh would not accept Tom Adams's
statement as Nancy Pansy did, and instead of holding him
as a favorite, it used to speak of him as " That Tom
io6 "NANCY PANSY. 1
Adams." Every old woman in Middleburgh declared she
was worse than she had been in ten years, and old Mrs.
Hippin took to her crutch, which she had not used in twelve
months, and told Nancy Pansy's sister she would die in a
week unless she could hear the old doctor's buggy rattle
again. But when the fever broke out in the little low
houses down on the river, things began to look very seri-
ous. The surgeon from the camp went to see the patients,
but they died, and more were taken ill. When a number
of other cases occurred in the town itself, all of the most
malignant type, the surgeon admitted that it was a form
of fever with which he was not familiar. There had never
been such an epidemic in Middleburgh before, and Middle-
burgh said that it was all due to the old doctor's absence.
One day Nancy Pansy went to the camp, to ask about the
old doctor, and saw a man sitting astride of a fence rail which
was laid on two posts high up from the ground. He had a
stone tied to each foot, and he was groaning. She looked up
at him, and saw that it was the man who had broken her
doll. She was about to run away, but he groaned so she
thought he must be in great pain, and that always hurt her ;
so she went closer, and asked him what was the matter. She
did not understand just what he said, but it was something
about the weight on his feet ; so she first tried to untie
the strings which held the stones, and then, as there was a
barrel standing by, she pushed at it until she got it up close
under him, and told him to rest his feet on that, whilst she
NANCY PANSYS 107
ran home and asked her mamma to lend her her scissors.
In pushing the barrel she broke Harry's head in pieces ;
but she was so busy she did not mind it then. Just as she
got the barrel in place some one called her, and turning
around she saw a sentinel ; he told her to go away, and he
kicked the barrel from under the man and let the stones
drop down and jerk his ankles again. Nancy Pansy began
to cry, and ran off up to Tom Adams's tent and told him
all about it, and how the poor man was groaning. Tom
Adams tried to explain that this man had got drunk, and
that he was a bad man, and was the same one who had
broken her doll. It had no effect. " Oh, but it hurts him
so bad ! " said Nancy Pansy, and she cried until Tom
Adams called a man and told him he might go and le.t
O'Meara down, and tell him that the little girl had begged
him off this time. Nancy Pansy, however, ran herself, and
called to him that Tom Adams said he might get down.
When he was on the ground, he walked up to her and said :
" May the Holy Virgin kape you ! Griff O'Meara'll
never forgit you."
A few days after that Nancy Pansy complained of head-
ache, and her mother kept her in the house. That even-
ing- her face was flushed, and she had a fever ; so her
mother put her to bed and sat by her. She went to sleep,
but waked in the night, talking very fast. She had a burn-
ing fever, and was quite out of her head. Mrs. Seddon
sent for the surgeon next morning, and he came and stayed
10S "NANCY PANSY."
some time. When he returned to camp he went to Tom
Adams's tent. He looked so grave as he came in that
Adams asked quickly :
" Any fresh cases ? "
" Not in camp." He sat down.
" Where ? "
" That little girl — Nancy Pansy."
Tom Adams's face turned whiter than it had ever turned
in battle.
" Is she ill ? "
" Desperately."
Tom Adams sprang to his feet.
" How long — how long can she hold out ?" he asked, in
a broken voice.
" Twenty-four hours, perhaps," said the surgeon.
Tom Adams put on his cap and left the tent. Five
minutes later he was in the hall at the Judge's. Just as
he entered, Nancy Pansy's sister came quickly out of a
door. She had been crying.
" How is she ? I have just this instant heard of it,"
said Tom, with real grief in his voice.
She put her handkerchief to her eyes.
" So ill," she sobbed.
" Can I see her ?" asked Tom, gently.
" Yes ; it won't hurt her."
When Tom Adams entered the room he was so shocked
that he stopped still. Mrs. Seddon bent over the bed with
■NANCY PANSY." 109
her face pale and worn, and in the bed lay Nancy Pansy,
so changed that Tom Adams never would have known
her. She had fallen off so in that short time that he
would not have recognized her. Her face was perfectly
white, except two bright red spots on her cheeks. She
was drawing short, quick breaths, and was talking all the
time very fast. No one could understand just what she
was saying, but a good deal of it was about Harry and
the old doctor. Tom bent over her, but she did not know
him ; she just went on talking faster than ever.
" Nancy Pansy, don't you know Tom Adams ? " her
mother asked her, in a soothing voice. She had never
called the young man so before, and he felt that it gave
him a place with Nancy Pansy; but the child did not know
him ; she said something about not having any Harry.
" She is growing weaker," said her mother.
Tom Adams leaned over and kissed the child, and left
the room.
As he came down the steps he met Griff O'Meara, who
asked how the " little gurl " was, " bless her sowl ! " When
he told him, Griff turned away and wiped his eyes with
the back of his hand. Tom Adams told him to stay there
and act as guard, which Griff vowed he'd do if the " howl
ribel army kem."
Ten minutes later Tom galloped out of camp with a
paper in his pocket signed by the surgeon. In an hour he
had covered the twelve miles of mud which lay between
•NANCY PANSY."
Middleburgh and the nearest telegraph station, and was
sending a message to General , his commander. At
last an answer came. Tom Adams read it.
" Tell him it is a matter of life and death," he said to
the operator. "Tell him there is no one else who under-
stands it and can check it, and tell him it must be done
before the afternoon train leaves, or it will be too late.
Here, I'll write it out." And he did so, putting all his
eloquence into the despatch.
Late that night two men galloped through the mud
and slush in the direction of Middleburgh. The younger
one had a large box before him on his horse ; the other
was quite an old man. Picket after picket was passed
with a word spoken by the younger man, and they gal-
loped on. At last they stopped at the Judge's gate, and
sprang from their splashed and smoking horses.
As they hurried up the walk, the guard at the steps chal-
lenged them in a rich Irish brogue.
" It's I, O'Meara. You here still ? How is she ? "
"'Most in the Holv Virgin's arms," said the Irishman.
"Is she alive ? " asked both men.
" It's a docther can tell that," said the sentinel. " They
thought her crone an hour aeo. There's several in there," he
said to his captain. " I didn't let 'em in at firrst, but the
young leddy said they wuz the frien's of the little gurl, an' I
let 'em by a bit."
A minute later the old man entered the sick-room, whilst
■NANCY PANSY."
Tom Adams stopped at the door outside. There was a gen-
eral cry as he entered of, " Oh, doctor ! "
And Mrs. Seddon called him : " Quick, quick, doctor !
she's dying ! "
" She's dead," said one of the ladies who stood by.
The old doctor bent over the little still white form, and
his countenance fell. She was not breathing-. With one hand
he picked up her little white arm and felt for the pulse ; with
the other he took a small case from his pocket. " Brandy,"
he said. It was quickly handed him. He poured some into a
little syringe, and stuck it into Nancy Pansy's arm, by turns
holding her wrist and feeling over her heart.
Presently he said, quietly, " She's living," and both Mrs.
Seddon and Nancy Pansy's sister said, " Thank God ! "
All night long the old doctor worked over Nancy Pansy.
Just before dawn he said to Mrs. Seddon: "What day is
this?"
" Christmas morning," said Mrs. Seddon.
"Well, madam, I hope God has answered your prayers,
and given your babe back to you ; I hope the crisis is passed.
Have you hung up her stocking?"
" No," said Nancy Pansy's mother. " She was so — "
She could not say anything more. Presently she added :
"She was all the time talking about you and Harry."
The old doctor rose and went out of the room. It was
about dawn. He left the house, and went over to his own
home. There, after some difficulty, he got in, and went to
NANCY PANSY."
his office. His old secretary had been opened and papers
taken out, but the old man did not seem to mind it. Pulling
the secretary out from the wall, he touched a secret spring.
It did not work at first, but after a while it moved, and he
put his hand under it, and pulled out a secret drawer. In it
were a number of small parcels carefully tied up with pieces
of ribbon, which were now quite faded, and from one peeped
a curl of soft brown hair, like that of a little girl. The old
doctor laid his fingers softly on it, and his old face wore a
gentle look. The largest bundle was wrapped in oil-silk.
This he took out and carefully unwrapped. Inside was yet
another wrapping of tissue paper. He put the bundle, with
a sigh, into his overcoat pocket, and went slowly back to the
Judge's. Nancy Pansy was still sleeping quietly.
The old doctor asked for a stocking and it was brought
him. He took the bundle from his pocket, and, unwrapping
it, held it up. It was a beautiful doll, with yellow hair done
up with little tucking combs such as ladies used to wear, and
with a lovely little old tiny-flowered silk dress.
" She is thirty years old, madam," he said gently to Mrs.
Seddon, as he slipped the doll into the stocking, and hung it
on the bed-post. " I have kept her for thirty years, think-
ing I could never give it to any one ; but last night I knew
I loved Nancy Pansy enough to give it to her." He leaned
over and felt her pulse. " She is sleeping well," he said.
Just then the door opened, and in tipped Tom Adams,
followed by Griff O'Meara in his stocking feet, bearing a
■NANCY PANSY." 113
large baby-house fitted up like a perfect palace, with every
room carpeted and furnished, and with a splendid doll sitting
on a balcony.
" A Christmas gift to that blessed angel from the Baby
Veterans, mem," he said, as he set it down ; and then taking
from his bulging pocket a large red-cheeked doll in a green
frock, he placed it in the door of the house, saying, with great
pride : " An' this from Griff O'Meara. Heaven bless her
swate soul ! "
Just then Nancy Pansy stirred and opened her eyes. Her
mother bent over her, and she smiled faintly. Mrs. Seddon
slipped down on her knees.
"Where's my old doctor and my dolly?" she said; and
then, presently, " Where's Harry and Tom Adams ? "
"JACK AND JAKE
/ c •>•>
I.
JACK AND JAKE." This is what they used to be
called. Their names were always coupled together.
Wherever you saw one, you were very apt to see the
other — Jack, slender, with yellow hair, big gray eyes, and
spirited look ; and Jake, thick-set and brown, close to him,
like his shadow, with his shining skin and white teeth.
They were always in sight somewhere ; it might be running
about the yard or far down on the plantation, or it might be
climbing trees to look into birds' nests — which they were
forbidden to trouble — or wadinsj in the creek, riding in the
carts or wagons about the fields, or following the furrow,
waiting a chance to ride a plough-horse home.
Jake belonged to Jack. He had been given to him by
his old master, Jack's grandfather, when Jack was only a few
years old, and from that time the two boys were rarely sepa-
rated, except at night.
Jake was a little larger than Jack, as he was somewhat
older, but Jack was the more active. Jake was dull ; some
n6 "JACK AND JAKE."
people on the plantation said he did not have good sense ;
but they rarely ventured to say so twice to Jack. Jack said
he had more sense than any man on the place. At least, he
idolized Jack.
At times the people commented on the white boy being
so much with the black ; but Jack's father said it was as
natural for them to run together as for two calves — a black
one and a white one — when they were turned out together ;
that he had played with Uncle Ralph, the butler, when they
were boys, and had taught the latter as much badness as
he had him.
So the two boys grew up together as " Jack and Jake,"
forming a friendship which prevented either of them ever
knowing that Jake was a slave, and brought them up as
friends rather than as master and servant.
If there was any difference, the boys thought it was
rather in favor of Jake ; for Jack had to go to school, and sit
for some hours every morning " saying lessons" to his aunt,
and had to look out (sometimes) for his clothes, while Jake
just lounged around outside the school-room door, and could
do as he pleased, for he was sure to get Jack's suit as soon as
it had become too much worn for Jack.
The games they used to play were surprising. Jack
always knew of some interesting thing they could " make
'tence " (that is, pretence) that they were doing. They
could be fishers and trappers, of course ; for there was the
creek winding down the meadow, in and out among; the
'JACK AND JAKE." 117
heavy willows on its banks ; and in the holes under the
fences and by the shelving rocks, where the water was blue
and deep, there were shining minnows, and even little perch ;
and they could be lost on rafts, for there was the pond, and
with their trousers rolled up to their thighs they could get
on planks and pole themselves about.
But the best fun of all was " Injins." Goodness ! how
much fun there was in Injins ! There were bows and
arrows, and tomahawks, and wigwams, and fires in the
woods, and painted faces, and creeping-ups, and scalpings,
and stealing horses, and hot pursuits, and hidings, and cap-
tures, and bringing the horses back, and the full revenge
and triumph that are clear to boys' hearts. Injins was, of
all plays, the best. There was a dear old wonderful fellow
named Leatherstocking, who was the greatest "Injin "-hunter
in the world. Jack knew all about him. He had a book
with him in it, and he read it and told Jake ; and so they
played Injins whenever they wanted real fun. It was a
beautiful place for Injins ; the hills rolled, the creeks wound
in and out amongf the willows, and ran through thickets into
the little river, and the woods surrounded the plantation on
all sides, and stretched across the river to the Mont Air
place, so that the boys could cross over and play on the
other side of the thick woods.
When the war came, Jack was almost a big boy. He
thought he was quite one. He was ten years old, and grew
old two years at a time. His father went off with the army,
n8 "JACK AND JAKE."
and left his mother at home to take care of the plantation
and the children. That included Ancy and wee Martha ;
not Jack, of course. So far from leaving any one to take
care of Jack, he left Jack to take care of his mother. The
morning he went away he called Jack to him and had a talk
with him. He told him he wanted him to mind his mother,
and look out for her, to help her and save her trouble, to
take care of her and comfort her, and defend her always like
a man. Jack was standing right in front of him, and when
the talk began he was fidgety, because he was in a great
hurry to go to the stable and ride his father's horse Warrior
to the house ; but his father had never talked to him so
before, and as he proceeded, Jack became grave, and when
his father took his hand, and, looking him quietly in the
eyes, said, "Will you, my son?" he burst out crying, and
flung his arms around his father's neck, and said, " Yes,
father, I will."
He did not go out of the house any more then ; he left
the horse to be brought down by Uncle Henry, the carriage-
driver, and he sat quietly by his father, and kept his eyes
on him, getting him anything he wanted ; and he waited on
his mother ; and when his father went away, he kissed him,
and said all over again that he would do what he promised.
And when his mother locked herself in her room afterward,
Jack sat on the front porch alone, in his father's chair, and
waited. And when she came out on the porch, with her
eyes red from weeping and her face worn, he did not say
"JACK AND JAKE." 119
anything, but quietly went and got her a glass of water.
His father's talk had aged him.
For the first two years, the war did not make much
difference to Jack personally. It made a difference to the
country, and to the people, and to his mother, but not to
Jack individually, though it made a marked difference in
him. It made him older. His father's words never were
forgotten. They had sobered him and steadied him. He
had seen a good deal of the war. The troop trains passed
up the railroad, the soldiers cheering and shouting, filling
the cars and crowding on top of them ; the army, or parts
of it, marched through the country by the county roads,
camping in the woods and fields. Many soldiers stopped
at Jack's home, where open house was kept, and everything
was gladly given to them. All the visitors now were sol-
diers. Jack rode the gentlemen's horses to water, with Jake
behind him, if there was but one (in which case the horse
was apt to get several waterings), or galloping after him, if
there were more. They were hard riders, and got many
falls, for the young officers were usually well mounted, and
their horses were wild. But a fall was no disgrace. Jack
remembered that his father once said to him, when a colt
had thrown him, " All bold riders get falls ; only those do
not who ride tame horses."
All the visitors were in uniform ; all the talk was of
war ; all thoughts were of the Confederacy. Every one was
enthusiastic. No sacrifices were too great to be made. The
i20 "JACK AND JAKE.'
corn-houses were emptied into the great, covered, blue army
wagons ; the pick of the horses and mules was given up.
Provisions became scanty and the food plain ; coffee and tea
disappeared ; clothes that were worn out were replaced by
homespun. Jack dressed in the same sort of coarse, grayish
stuff of which Jake's clothes used to be made ; and his boots
were made by Uncle Dick at the quarters ; but this did not
trouble him. It was rather fun than otherwise. Boys like
to rough it. He had come to care little for these things.
He was getting manlier. His mother called him her pro-
tector ; his father, when he came home, as he did once or
twice a year, called him " a man," and introduced him to his
friends as " my son."
His mother began to consult him, to rely on him, to
call on him. He used to go about with her, or go for her
wherever she had business, however far off it might be.
The war had been going on two years, when the enemy
first reached Jack's home. It was a great shock to Jack, for
he had never doubted that the Confederates would keep them
back. There had been a great battle some time before, and
his father had been wounded and taken prisoner (at first he
was reported killed). But for that, Jack said, the "Yankees"
would never have got there. The Union troops did not
trouble Jack personally ; but they made a great deal of
trouble about the place. They took all the horses and
mules that were good for anything and put them in their
wagons. This was a terrible blow to Jack. All his life he
"JACK AND JAKE."
had been brought up with the horses ; each one was his pet
or his friend.
After that the war seemed to be much more about Jack's
home than it had been before. The place was in the posses-
sion first of one army and then of the other, and at last, one
winter, the two armies lay not far apart, with Jack's home
just between them. " The Yankees " were the nearer.
Their pickets were actually on the plantation, at the ford,
and at the bridge over the little river into which the creek
emptied, in the big woods. There they lay, with their camps
over behind the hills, a mile or two farther away. At night
the glow of their camp-fires could be seen. Jack had a
pretty aunt who used to stay with his mother, and many
young officers used to come over from the Confederate side
to see her. In such cases, they usually came at night, leav-
ing their horses, for scouting parties used to come in on
them occasionally and stir them up. Once or twice skir-
mishes took place in the fields beyond the creek.
One evening a party of young officers came in and took
supper. They had some great plan. They were quite mys-
terious, and consulted with Jack's mother, who was greatly
interested in them. They appeared a little shy of talking
before Jack ; but when his mother said he had so much judg-
ment that he could be trusted, they talked openly in his pres-
ence. They had a plan to go into the Federal camp that
night and seize the commanding officer. They wanted to
know all the paths. Jack could tell them. He was so
"JACK AND JAKE."
proud. There was not a cow-path he did not know for two
or three miles around, for he and Jake had hunted all over
the country. He could tell them everything, and he did so
with a swelling heart. They laid sheets of paper down on
the dining-table, and he drew them plans of the roads and
hills and big woods ; showed where the river could be waded,
and where the ravines were. He asked his mother to let him
go along with them, but she thought it best for him not
to go.
They set out at bed-time on foot, a half-dozen gay young
fellows, laughing and boasting of what they would do, and
Jack watched them enviously as their forms faded away in the
night. They did not succeed in capturing the officer ; but
they captured a number of horses and a picket at the bridge,
and came off triumphant, with only one or two of their num-
ber slightly wounded. Shortly afterwards they came over,
and had a great time telling their experiences. They had
used the map Jack made for them, and had got safely beyond
the pickets and reached the camp. There, finding the sen-
tries on guard, they turned back, and taking the road,
marched down on the picket, as if they had come to relieve
them. Coming from the camp in this way, they had got
upon the picket, when, suddenly drawing their pistols and
poking them up against the Yankees, they forced them to
surrender, and disarmed them. Then taking two of them
off separately, they compelled them to give the countersign.
Having got this, they left the prisoners under guard of two
'JACK AND JAKE." 125
of their number, and the rest went back to camp. With the
countersign they passed the sentry, and went into the camp.
Then they found that the commanding officer had gone off
somewhere, and was not in camp that night, and there were
so many men stirring about that they did not dare to wait.
They determined, therefore, to capture some horses and
return. They were looking over the lines of horses to take
their pick when they were discovered. Each man had
selected a horse, and was trying to get him, when the alarm
was given, and they were fired on. They had only time to
cut the halters when the camp began to pour out. Flinging
themselves on the horses' backs, they dashed out under a
fusillade, firing right and left. They took to the road, but it
had been picketed, and they had to dash through the men
who held it under a fire poured into their faces. All had
passed safely except one, whose horse had become unman-
ageable, and had run away, flying the track and taking to the
fields.
He was, they agreed, the finest horse in the lot, and his
rider had had crreat trouble sfettinsr him, and had lingered so
long that he came near being captured. He had finally cut
the halter, and had cut it too short to hold by.
They had great fun laughing at their comrade, and the
figure he cut as his barebacked horse dashed off into the
darkness, with him swinging to the mane. He had shortly
been dragged off of him in the woods, and when he appeared
in camp next day, he looked as if he had been run through a
126 "JACK AND JAKE:
mill. His eyes were nearly scratched out of his head, and
his uniform was torn into shreds.
The young fellow, who still showed the marks of his bruis-
ing, took the chaffing good-naturedly, and confessed that he
had nearly lost his life trying to hold on to his captive. He
had been down into the woods the next day to try and get
his horse ; though it was the other side of the little river,
and really within the Federal lines. But though he caught
sight of him, it was only a glimpse. The animal was much
too wild to be caught, and the only thing he received for his
pains was a grazing shot from a picket, who had caught sight
of him prowling around, and had sent a ball through his cap.
The narration of the capture and escape made Jack wild
with excitement. All the next day he was in a state of
tremor, and that evening he and Jake spent a long time up
in the barn together talking, or rather Jack talking and Jake
listening. Jake seemed to be doubtful ; but Jack's enthusi-
asm carried all before him, and Jake yielded, as he nearly
always did.
All that evening after they got back to the house Jack
was very quiet. It was the quiet of suppressed excitement.
He was thinking.
Next day, after dinner, he and Jake started out. They
were very mysterious. Jack carried a rope that they got
from the stable, and the old musket that he used in hunting.
Jake carried an axe and some corn. They struck out for the
creek as if they were going hunting in the big woods, which
'JACK AND JAKE." 127
they entered ; but at the creek they turned and made for
about opposite where Jack understood his friend had been
thrown by the wild horse that night. They had to avoid the
pickets on the roads, so they stuck to the woods.
At the river the first difficulty presented itself ; the bridge
and ford were picketed. How were they to get across? It
was over their heads in the middle. Jack could swim a little,
but Jake could not swim a stroke. Besides, they did not
wish to get their clothes wet, as that would betray them at
home. Jack thought of a raft, but that would take too long
to make ; so finally they decided to go down the stream and
try to cross on an old tree that had fallen into the water two
or three years before.
The way down was quite painful, for the underbrush
along the banks was very dense, and was matted with bram-
bles and briers, which stuck through their clothes ; added to
which there was a danger of "snakes," as Jake constantly
insisted. But after a slow march they reached the tree. It
lay diagonally across the stream, as it had fallen, its roots on
the bank on their side and the branches not quite reaching
the other bank. This was a disappointment. However,
Jack determined to try, and if it was not too deep beyond
the branches, then Jake could come. Accordingly, he pulled
off his clothes, and carefully tying them up in a bundle, he
equipped himself with a long pole and crawled out on the
log. When he got among the branches, he fastened his
bundle and let himself down. It was a little over his head.
128 "JACK AND JAKE."
but he let eo, and with a few vigorous strokes he reached the
other side. The next thing to do was to get Jake over.
Jake was still on the far side, and, with his eyes wide open,
was declaring, vehemently, " Nor, sir," he "warn gwine to git
in that deep water, over his head." He " didn't like water
nohow." Jack was in a dilemma. Jake had to be got over,
and so had his clothes. They had an axe. They could cut
poles if he could get back. There was nothing for it but to
try. Accordingly he went up a little way, took a plunge,
and, after hard pulling and much splashing and blowing, got
back to the tree and climbed up. They were afraid the
Yankees might see them if they worked too long on the
river, as it was a little cleared up on the hill above, so they
went back into the woods and set to work, jack selected a
young pine not too large for them to " tote," and they cut it
down, and cut off two poles, which they carried down to the
river, and finally, after much trouble, worked along the tree in
the water, and got them stretched across from the branch
of the fallen log to the other bank. Jake could hardly be
persuaded to try it, but Jack offered him all his biscuit (his
customary coin with Jake), and promised to help him, and
finally Jake was got over, " cooning it" — by which was meant
crawling on his hands and knees.
The next thing was to find the horse, for Jack had deter-
mined to capture him. This was a difficult thing to effect.
In the first place, he might not be there at all, as he might
have escaped or have been caught ; and the woods had to be
"JACK AND JAKE." 129
explored with due regard to the existence of the Federal
pickets, who were posted at the roads and along the paths.
If the pickets caught sight of them they might be shot, or
even captured. The latter seemed much the worse fate to
|ack, unless, indeed, the Yankees should send them to John-
son's Island, where his father was. In that case, however,
what would his mother do ? It would not do to be captured.
Jack laid out the plan of campaign. They would " beat the
woods," going up the stream at a sufficient distance apart,
Jake, with the axe and corn, on the inside, and he, with the
gun and rope, outside. Thus, if either should be seen, it
would be he, and if he came on a soldier, he, having the gain,
would capture him. He gave orders that no word was to be
spoken. If any track was found notice was to be given by
imitating a partridge ; if danger appeared, it was to be shown
by the cat-bird's call of " Naik, naik." This was the way they
used to play " Injins."
They worked their way along for an hour or two with-
out seeing any traces, and Jake, contrary to Jack's com-
mand, called out to him :
" Oh, Jack, we ain' gwine fine no horse down heah ; dese
woods is too big ; he done los'. There's a clearin' right ahead
here ; let's go home."
There was a little field just ahead, with one old cabin in
it ; a path ran down from it to the bridge. Jack replied in
the cat-bird's warning note of " Naik, naik," but Jake was
tired of working his way through briers and bushes, and he
1 3 o "JACK AND JAKE.'
begfan to come over toward lack, still calling to him. Sud-
denly there was a shout just ahead ; they stopped ; it was
repeated.
" Who dat calling' ?" asked Jake, in a frightened under-
tone.
" Hush ! it's a picket," said Jack, stooping and motioning
him back, just as a volume of white smoke with blazes in it
seemed to burst out of the woods at the edge of the clearing,
and the stillness was broken by the report of half a dozen
carbines. Leaves and pieces of bark fell around them, but
the bullets flew wide of their mark.
" Run, fake ! " shouted Jack, as he darted away ; but Jake
had not waited for orders ; he had dropped his axe and corn,
and was " flying."
Jack soon came up with him, and they dashed along to-
gether, thinking that perhaps the picket knew where they had
crossed the river, and would try to cut them oft.
In their excitement they took a way farther from the river
than that by which they had come. The woods were open,
and there were small spaces covered with coarse grass on the
little streams. As they ran along down a hill approaching one
of these, the) - heard a sound of trampling coming towards
them which brought them to a sudden stand-still with their
hearts in their mouths. It must be the enemy. They were
coming at full gallop. What a crashing they made coming
on ! They did not have time to run, and Jack immediately
cocked his old musket and resolved at least to fight. Just
'JACK AND JAKE."
then there galloped up to him, and almost over him, a mag-
nificent bay horse without saddle or bridle. At sight of Jack
he swerved and gave a loud snort of alarm, and then, with
his head high in the air, and with his dilated red nostrils and
eyes wide with fright, went dashing off into the woods.
II.
" r I ^ HE horse! the horse! Here he is! here he is!"
shouted Jack, taking out after him as hard as he
could, and calling to Jake to come on. In a minute
or two the horse was far beyond them, and they stopped to
listen and get his direction ; and while they were talking,
even the sound of his trampling died away. But they had
found him. They knew he was still there, a wild horse in
the woods.
In their excitement all their fear had vanished as quickly
as it had come. Jake suggested something about being cut
off at the tree, but Jack pooh-poohed it now. He was afire
with excitement. How <dad his mother would be ! What
would not the soldiers say? "You didn't see him, Jake?"
No, Jake admitted he did not, but he heard him. And Jack
described him — two white feet, one a fore foot and one a
hind foot, a star in his forehead, and a beautiful mane and
tail. Jake suddenly found that he had seen him. They went
back to the little open place in the ravine where the horse
had been. It was a low, damp spot between very high banks,
that a little higher — at a point where the water in rainy
weather, running over a fallen log in the hill-side, had washed
"JACK AND JAKE." 133
out a deep hole — had become nothing but a gully, with the
banks quite perpendicular and coming together.
The stream was dry now except for a little water in the
hole at the tree. Trees and bushes grew thick upon the
banks to the very edge. Below, where it widened, the banks
became lower, and the little flat piece between them was cov-
ered with coarse grass, now cropped quite close. The horse
evidently fed there. Jack sat down and thought. He looked
all over the ground. Then he got up, and walked along the
banks around the hole ; then he came back, and walked up
the gully. Suddenly a light broke over his face.
" I've got it, Jake ; I've got it, Jake. We can trap him.
If we get him in here, we've grot him."
Jake was practical. " How you gwine ketch hoss in
trap?" he asked, his idea of a trap being confined to hare
gums. " 'Twill take all de plank in de worl' to make a
hoss-trap. Besides, how you gwine git it heah ? I ain' gwine
tote it."
" Who asked you to ?" asked Jack. " I'm going to trap
him like they do tigers and lions."
" I don' know nuttin' 'bout dem beas'es," said Jake, dis-
dainfully.
" No, you don't," said Jack, with fine scorn ; " but I do."
He examined the banks carefully. His first idea was a
pitfall trap — a covering over the hole. But that would not
do ; it might kill the horse, or at least break a leg. His eye
fell on the tracks up to the water. His face lit up.
i 3 4 "JACK AND JAKE."
" I've grot it ! I've £Ot it ! We'll bait him, and then catch
him. Where are the axe and corn you had ?"
He turned to Jake. His mind up to that time had been
so busy with, first, the flight, and then the horse, that he had
not noticed that Jake did not have them.
Jake's countenance fell. " I done los' 'em," he said,
guiltily.
Jack looked thunderstruck. " Now you just go and find
'em," he said, hotly.
" I los' 'em when dem Yankees shoot we all. I know I
ain' gwine back deah," declared Jake, positively. " I ain'
gwine have no Yankee shootin' me 'bout a old hoss."
" Yes, you are," asserted Jack. " I'm going, and you've
got to go, too." Jake remained impassive. " Never mind,
if you don't go I won't play with you any more, and I won't
give you half my biscuit any more."
These were usually potent threats, but they failed now.
" I don' keer ef you don' play wid me," said Jake, scornfully.
" I don' want play so much nohow ; an' I don' want none
you' buscuit. Dee ain' white like dee use' to be."
Jack changed his key.
" Never mind, that was Aunt Winnie's axe you lost. I'm
going to tell her you lost it, and she'll cut you all to pieces.
I'm mighty glad I didn't lose it."
This was a view of the case which Jake had not thought
of. It was true. The Yankees might not hit him, but if
her axe were lost, his mammy was certain to carry out her
"JACK AND JAKE." 135
accustomed threat of cutting him almost in two. Jake an-
nounced that he would go, but first stipulated tor the biggest
half of the next biscuit, and that Jack should go before.
They set off back through the woods toward the opening
where they had run on the picket, Jack in the lead, and Jake
a little behind. They had gone about a half mile, when they
heard the sound of some one coming toward them at a rapid
rate.
" Run, Jack ; heah dey come," cried Jake, setting the
example, and taking to his heels, with Jack behind him.
They ran, but were evidently being overtaken, for whoever it
was was galloping right after them as hard as he could tear.
" Hide in the bushes," cried Jack, and flung himself flat
on the ground under a thick bush. Jake did the same. They
were just in time, for the pursuers were almost on them.
Closer and closer they came, galloping as hard as they could,
crashing through the branches. They must have seen them,
for they came straight down on them. Jake began to cry,
and Jack was trembling, for he felt sure they would be killed ;
there must be a hundred of them. But no, they actually
passed by. Jack found courage to take a peep. He gave a
cry, and sprang to his feet.
" The horse ! it's the horse." Sure enough, it was the
horse they had seen ; all this terrible trampling was nothing
but him in the leaves, galloping back toward the spot from
which they had frightened him. They listened until his
long gallop died out in the distance through the woods.
136 "JACK AND J ARE.'
lake susrarested their eoino; back to look and see if he had
.gone to the " little .pasture," as they called the place; but
Jack was bent on getting the axe, and the corn with which
they proposed to bait him. His reference to Aunt Winnie's
axe prevailed, and they kept on.
They had some difficulty in finding the place where Jake
had dropped the things, for though they found the clearing,
they had to be very careful how they moved around through
the woods. They could see the picket lounging about, and
could hear them talking distinctly. They were discussing
whether the men they had shot at were just scouts or were
pickets thrown out, and whether they had hit any of them.
One said that they were cavalry, for he had seen the horses ;
another said he knew they were infantry, for he had seen the
men. Jack lay down, and crept along close up.
Jack's plan was to set a trap for the horse just at the head
of the ravine, where the banks became very steep and high.
He had read how Indians drove buffalo by frightening them
till they all rushed to one point. He had seen also in a book
of Livingston's travels a plan of capturing animals in Africa.
This plan he chose. He proposed to lay his bait along up to
the gully, and to make a sort of alleyway up which the horse
could go. At the end he would have an opening nearly but
not quite closed by saplings inclined toward each other, and
which would be movable, so that they might interlace. On
either side of this he would have a high barricade. He
believed that the horse would be led by the corn which he
"JACK AND JAKE." 137
would strew along into the trap, and would squeeze through
the pliant saplings, when he would be caught between the
high banks of the gully, and then if he attempted to get back
through the opening, he would push the saplings together.
He would fix two strong poles so that any attempt to push
through would bring them into position. The horse would
thus be in a trap formed of the high banks and the barricade.
They set to work and cut poles all the evening ; but it got
late before they got enough for the barricade, and they had
to go home. Before leaving, however, Jack dragged some of
the poles up, and laid his corn along leading up to the gully
to accustom the horse to the sight of the poles and to going
into the gully among them. They fixed the two poles firmly
at the river crossing from the branch of the tree to the bank,
so that they could get across easily, and then they crossed on
them and came home.
Jack was filled with excitement, and had hard work to
keep from telling his mother and aunt about it, but he did
not.
Jake's fear of his mammy's finding out about the axe kept
him silent.
The next afternoon they went down again, taking more
corn with them, in case the other bait had been eaten. There
were fresh tracks up to the pool, so although they did not
see the horse, they knew he had been there, and they went
to work joyfully and cut more poles. They put them into
position across the ravine, and when it got time to go home
i 3 8 "JACK AND JAKE."
they had up the barricade and had fixed the entrance ; but
this was the most difficult part, so Jack laid down some more
corn along the alley, and they went home.
The next day was Saturday, so they had a good day's
work before them, and taking their dinner with them, they
started out. Jack's mother asked what he was doing; he
said, with a smile, " Setting traps." When they arrived the
horse had been there, and they worked like beavers all day,
and by dinner-time had got the entrance fixed. It worked
beautifully. By pressing in between the two sides they gave
way and then sprang together again until they interlaced,
and pushing against them from within just pushed them
tighter together. They laid their bait down and went home.
Monday they visited the trap, but there was no horse in it ;
the grain was eaten without — he had been there — but inside
it was untouched. He had pushed some of the poles so that
he could not get in. This was a great disappointment.
.Jack's motto, however, was, " If at first you don't succeed,
try, try again," so they refixed it. The failure had some-
what dampened their ardor.
The next afternoon, however, when they went, there was
the entrance closed, and inside, turning about continually, with
high head and wide eyes, around the edges of which were
angry white rims, was the horse. He was even handsomer
than they had thought him. He was a dangerous-looking
fellow, rearing and jumping about in his efforts to get out.
Jake was wild with excitement. The next thing was to take
-JACK AND JAKE." 141
him out and get him home. A lasso would be needed to catch
him ; for he looked too dangerous for them to go inside the
trap to bridle him. jack strengthened the entrance by plac-
ing a few more poles across it, and then put his corn inside
the trap, and hurried home to get a rope and bridle. They
were dreadfully afraid that some one might see them, for Jack
knew he could not keep the secret now if he met his mother,
and he had pictured himself, with Jake behind him, galloping
up into the yard, with his horse rearing and plunging, and
bringing him up right before his mother, with perhaps a half
dozer, officers around her. They were back in an hour or
so with a good rope and bridle.
Jack made a running noose in the rope, and tried to
throw it over the horse's head. He had practised this on
stumps and on Jake, playing Injins, until he was right skil-
ful at it ; but getting it over the head of a wild and fright-
ened horse was another thing from putting it over a stump,
or even over Jake, and it was a long time before he suc-
ceeded. He stood on the bank over the horse, and would
throw and throw, and fail ; the horse got furious, and would
rear and strike at them with his fore-feet. At last, just as he
was thinking that he could not do it, the noose went over the
horse's head. Jack pulled it taut.
In a second the other end was wrapped twice around a
small tree on the bank; for Jack knew how to "get a pur-
chase." The horse reared and pulled frightfully, but his
pulling only tightened the rope around his neck, and at last
H2 "JACK AND JAKE:
he tell back choking, his eyes nearly starting out of his head.
This was Jack's opportunity. He had often seen young
steers caught and yoked this way, and he had bridled youncr
colts. In a second he was in the pen, and had the bridle on
the horse, and in another minute he was out and the rope was
loosed. The horse, relieved, bounded to his feet and began
to wheel again ; but he was not so fierce as before. The
bridle on his head was recognized by him as a badge of servi.
tude, and he was quieter. It was now late, and he was too
wild to take out yet, so Jack determined to leave him there,
and come again next day and get him. The next afternoon
Jack and Jake set out again for the little meadow in the
woods. Jack was bent on bringing his captive home this
time, whatever happened.
He did not go until late, for he had to pass the pickets on
the road to the river, and he could do this better about dusk
than he could in broad daylight. He had an idea that they
might think, as he would come from toward the Yankee
camp, that it would be all right; if not, he would make a dash
for it. He carried a feed of corn with him to cri ve to the
horse for two reasons: the first was that he thought he would
need it, and, besides, it would quiet him. They crossed at
the old tree, not far from the meadow ; they had crossed so
often that they had made quite a path now. All the way
along Jack was telling Jake how he was going to ride the
horse, no matter what he did. Jake was to stand on the
ground and hold the rope, so that if the horse flung Jack he
*
"JACK AND JAKE'' 143
would not get loose. They approached the trap with great
excitement. They were careful, however, for they did not
want to scare him. As they drew near they were pleased to
find he had got quiet. They came nearer; he was so quiet
that they thought probably he was asleep. So they crept up
quite close, Jack in advance, and peeped over the bank into
the trap. Jack's heart jumped up into his throat. It was
empty ! he was gone ! Jack could not help a few tears
stealing down his cheeks. Yes, he was gone. At first
he thought he had escaped, and he could catch him again ;
but no, an examination of the place showed him that he
had been found in the trap by some one, and had been
stolen. The barricade was pulled down, and the poles of
the entrance were thrown back quite out of the way. Be-
sides, there were men's tracks in the wet place on the edge
of the pool. Jack sat down and cried. It was some of those
Yankees, he knew. Jake poured out all his eloquence upon
the subject. This relieved him.
" If I had my gun I'd go right straight and shoot them,"
declared Jack.
This valorous resolve set him to thinking. He got up,
and went down to the gap. He could see the tracks where
the horse was led out. He must have " cut up " a good deal,
for the grass outside was very much trampled. Jack could
see where he was led or ridden away. The tracks went
straight toward the clearing where the picket was. They
were quite fresh ; he could not very long have been taken.
144 "JACK AND JAKE.
Jack determined to track him, and find out where he was if
possible. They set out through the woods. They could fol-
low the track quite well in most places, but in some spots it
was almost lost. In such cases Jack followed the method of
woodsmen — he took a circle, and hunted until he found it
again. The trail led straight to the clearing. As they drew
near, Jake became very nervous, so Jack left him lying under
a bush, and he crept up. It was so late now that it was get-
ting quite dusk in the woods, so Jack could creep up close.
He got down on his hands and knees. As he came near
he could see the men sitting about the little old cabin. They
were talking. Their guns were lying against the wall, at some
little distance, and their horses were picketed not far off,
rather in the shadow, Jack observed. Jack lay down at the
edcre of the wood and counted them. There were five men
and six horses. Yes, one of them must be his horse. He
listened to the men. They were talking about horses. He
crept a little closer. Yes, they were talking over the finding
of his horse. One man thought he knew him, that he was the
Colonel's horse that had been stolen that night when so many
horses were carried off by the Johnnies; others thought it was
a horse some of the negroes had stolen from the plantation
across the river from their master, and had hidden. There
was the pen and the bridle, and there was the path down to
the crossing at the river. Jack's heart beat faster ; so they
knew the crossing. They were very much divided, but on
one thing they all agreed, that anyhow he was a fine animal,
"JACK AND JAKE." 145
worth at least three hundred dollars, and they would have a
nice sum from him when the}' sold him. It was suggested
that they should play cards for him, and whichever one
should win should have the whole of him. This was agreed
to, and they soon arranged themselves and began to play
cards in the moonlight.
Jack could now make out his horse standing tied near the
cabin on the outside of the others. He could see in the
moonlight that he was tied with a rope. He crept back to
Jake, and together they went further down into the woods to
consult. Jack had a plan which he unfolded to Jake, but Jake
was obdurate. "Nor, sah, he warn' gwine 'mong dem Yan-
kees ; Yankees ketch him and shoot him. He was gwine
home. Mammy'd whup him if he didn' ; she mought whup
him anyway." Jack pleaded and promised, but it was use-
less. He explained to Jake that they could ride home quicker
than they could walk. It was of no avail. Jake recalled that
there was a Yankee picket near the bridge, and that was the
only place a horse could cross since the ford was stopped up.
Finally Jack had to let Jake go.
He told him not to say anything at home as to where he
was, which Jake promised, and Jack helped him across the
poles at the tree, and then went back alone to the clearing.
He crept up as before. The men were still playing cards,
and he could hsar them swearing and laucdiingf over their ill
or good luck. One of them looked at his watch. The relief
would be along in twenty minutes. Jack's heart beat. He
10
146 "JACK AND JAKE."
had no time to lose. He cut himself a stout switch. He
made a little detour, and went around the other side of the
clearing, so as to get the horse between him and the men.
This put him on the side toward the camp, as the men were
on the path which led to the bridge. Without stopping, he
crept up to the open space. Then he flung himself on his
face, and began to crawl up through the weeds toward the
horses, stopping every now and then to listen to the men.
As he drew near, one or two of the horses got alarmed
and began to twist, and one of them gave a snort of fear.
Jack heard the men discussing it, and one of them say he
would go and see what was the matter. Jack lay flat in
the weeds, and his heart almost stopped with fright as he
heard the man coming around the house. He could see
him through the weeds, and he had his gun in his hands.
He seemed to be coming right to Jack, and he gave himself
up as lost. He could hear his heart thumping so, he was
sure the man must hear it too. He would have sprung up
and cut for the woods if he had had the slightest chance ;
and as it was, he came near giving himself up, but though
the man seemed to be looking right toward him, Jack was
fortunately so concealed by the weeds that he did not ob-
serve him. He went up to Jack's horse, and examined the
rope. "Tain't nothing but this new horse," he called out
to his comrades. " He just wanted to see his master. I'll
put my saddle on him now, boys. I've got him so certain,
and I mean to let him know he's got a master." He changed
the saddle and bridle from another horse to that, and then
"JACK AND JAKE." 147
went back to his comrades, who were all calling to him to
come along, and were accusing him of trying to take up the
time until the relief came, because he was ahead, and did not
want to play more and give them a chance to win the horse
back.
Jack lay still for a minute, and then took a peep at the
men, who were all busily playing. Then he crept up. As
soon as he was out of sight, he sprung to his feet and walked
boldly up to the horse, caught him by the bit, and with a
stroke of his knife cut the rope almost in two close up to his
head. Then he climbed up on him, gathered up the reins,
fixed his feet in the stirrup leathers, bent over, and with a
single stroke cut the rope and turned him toward the bridge.
The horse began to rear and jump. Jack heard the men stop
talking, and one of them say, "That horse is loose ; " another
one said, " I'll go and see ; " another said, " There's the. relief."
Jack looked over his shoulder. There came a half-dozen
men on horses. There was no time to lose. Lifting- his
switch above his head, Jack struck the horse a lick with all his
might, and with a bound which nearly threw Jack out of his
seat, he dashed out into the moonlio-ht straight for the road.
" He's loose ! there's a man on him ! " shouted the men, spring-
ing to their feet. Jack leaned forward on his neck and gave
him the switch just as a volley was fired at him. Pop, pop,
pop, pop went the pistols ; and the balls flew whistling about
Jack's head : but he was leaning far forward, and was un-
touched. Under the lash the horse went flying down the
path across the little field.
III.
JACK had often run races on colts, but he had never
ridden such a race as that. The wind blew whistling
by him ; the leaves of the bushes over the path cut
him, hissing as he dashed along. If he could pass the picket
where the path struck the road near the bridge, he would be
safe. The path was on an incline near the road, and was on
a straight line with the bridge, so he had a straight dash for
it. The picket was just beyond the fork. Jack had often
seen them. There were generally two men on the bridge,
and a pole was laid across the railing of the bridge near the
other side. But Jack did not think of that now ; he thought
only of the men galloping behind him on his track. He
could not have stopped the horse if he would, but he had no
idea of trying it. He was near the bridge, and his only
chance was to dash by the picket. Down the path he went
as straight as an arrow, his splendid horse leaping under his
light weight — down the path like a bullet through the dusk
of the woods. The sleepy picket had heard the firing at the
clearing up on the hill, and had got ready to stop whoever it
might be. They were standing in the road, with their guns
"JACK AND JAKE." 149
ready. They could not make it out. It was only a single
horse coming tearing down toward them.
" Halt, halt ! " they called, before Jack was in sight ; but
it was idle. Down the path the horse came flying — Jack with
his feet in the stirrup leathers, his hands wrapped in the
bridle reins, his body bent forward on his horse's neck, and
cluckine his tongue out. In one bound the horse was in the
road. "Halt!" Bang! bang! went the guns in his very
face. But he was flying. A dozen leaps and he was thun-
dering across the bridge. Jack was conscious only that a
dark form stood in the middle, throwing up its arms. It was
but a second ; he saw it shot out into the water as if struck
by a steam-engine. His horse gave one splendid leap, and
the next minute he was tearing up the road toward home,
through the quiet woods, which gave no sound but that of
his rushing stride.
Jack had one moment of supreme delight. His mother
had got somewhat anxious about him, and they were all on
the front porch when he galloped up into the yard, his beau-
tiful bay now brought down under perfect control, but yet
full of life and spirit. As they ran to meet him, Jack sprang
from the saddle and presented the horse to his mother.
The next day Jack's mother called him into her room.
She took him by the hand. " My son," she said, " I want
you to carry the horse back and return him to the Yankee
camp."
Jack was aghast. " Why, mamma, he's my horse ; that is,
iSo "JACK AND JAKE"
he is yours. I found him and caught him and gave him to
you."
His mother explained to him her reasons. She did not
think it was right for him to keep the horse obtained in such
a way. Jack argued that he had found the horse running wild
in their own woods, and did not know his owner. This made
no difference ; she told him the horse had an owner. He
argued that the soldiers took horses, had taken all of theirs,
and that their own soldiers — the gentlemen who had come to
tea — had been over and taken a lot from the camp. His
mother explained to him that that was different. They were
all soldiers wearing uniforms, engaged openly in war. What
they took was capture ; Jack was not a soldier, and was not
treated as one. Jack told her how he had been shot at and
chased. She was firm. She wished the horse returned, and
though Jack wept a little for the joint reason of having to
give up the horse and the mortification of restoring it to the
Yankees, he obeyed. He had some doubt whether he would
not be captured ; but his mother said she would write a letter
to the commanding officer over there, explaining why she
returned the horse, and this would be safe- conduct. She had
known the colonel before the war, and he had once stopped
at her house after a little battle beyond them. Colonel Wil-
son had, in fact, once been a lover of hers.
The idea of going with a safe-conduct was rather soothing
to Jack's feelings ; it sounded like a man. So he went and
fed the horse. Then he went and asked Jake to go with
"JACK AND JAKE." 151
him. Jake was very doubtful. He was afraid of the Yan-
kees catching him. The glory of Jack's capture the night
before had, however, given Jack great prestige, and when
Jack told him about the letter his mother was going to write
as a safe-conduct — like a " pass," he explained — Jake agreed
to go, but only on condition that he might carry the pass.
To this Jack consented. It was late in the afternoon when
they started, for the horse had to be broken to carry double,
and he was very lively. Both Jack and Jake went off again
and again. At last, however, they got him steady, and set
out, Jack in the saddle, and Jake behind him clinging on.
Jake had the letter safe in his pocket for their protection.
They had a beautiful ride through the woods, and Jack
remembered the glorious race he had had there the night
before. As they approached the bridge, Jack thought of
tying his handkerchief on a stick as a flag of truce ; but he
was not sure, as he was not a real soldier, he ought to do so.
He therefore rode slowly on. He pictured to himself the
surprise they would have when he rode up, and they recog-
nized the horse, and learned that he had captured it.
This feeling almost did away with the mortification of
having to return it. He rode slowly as he neared the bridge,
for he did not want them to think he was a soldier and shoot
at him. Jack was surprised when he got to the bridge to find
no men there. He rode across, and not caring to keep up
the main road, turned up the path toward the clearing. He
rode cautiously. His horse suddenly shied, and Jack was
1.52 "JACK AND JAKE.'
startled by some one springing out of the bushes before him
and calling " Halt ! " as he flung up his gun. Jake clutched
him, and Jack halted. Several men surrounded them, and
ordered them to get down. They slipped off the horse, and
one of the men took it. They all had guns.
"Why, this is the Colonel's thoroughbred that was stolen
two weeks ago," declared one of the men. " Where did you
steal this horse ? " asked another of them, roughly.
" We did not steal him," asserted jack, hotly. " We
found him and caught him in the woods."
"You hear that?" The man turned to his comrades.
" Come, little Johnnie, don't tell lies. We've got you, and
you were riding a stolen horse, and there were several others
stolen at the same time. You'd better tell the truth, and
make a clean breast of it, if you know what's good for you."
fack indignantly denied that he had stolen the horse, and
told how they had caught him and were bringing him back.
He had a letter from his mother to Colonel Wilson, he
asserted, to prove it.
" Where is the letter ? " they asked.
Jack turned to Jake. " Jake's got it in his pocket."
" Yes, I got de pass," declared Jake, feeling in his pocket.
He felt first in one and then another. His countenance fell.
" Hi ! I done los' it," he asserted.
The soldiers laughed. That was a little too thin, they
declared. Come, they must go with them. They proposed
to put a stop to this horse-stealing. It had been going on
"JACK AND JAKE." 153
long enough. A horse was stolen only last night, and the
man had run over one of the pickets on the bridge, and
had knocked him into the river and drowned him. They
were glad to rind who it was, etc.
Jack felt very badly. Jake came close up to him and
began to whisper. " Jack, what dey gwine do wid us?" he
asked.
" Hang you, you black little horse-stealing imp ! " said
one of the men, with a terrific force. "Cut you up into little
pieces."
The others laughed. Men are often not very considerate
to children. They do not realize how helpless children feel
in their power. Both Jack and Jake turned pale.
Jake was ashy. " jack, I told you not to come," he cried.
Jack acknowledged the truth of this. He had it on his
tongue's end to say, " What did you lose the letter for?" but
he did not. He felt that as his father's son he must be brave.
He just walked close to Jake and touched him. " Don't be
scared," he whispered. " We will get away."
Just then one of the men caught Jake and twisted his
arm a little. Jake gave a little whine of fright. In an
instant Jack snatched a gun from a man near by him, and
cocking it, levelled it at the soldier. " Let Jake go, or I'll
blow your brains out," he said.
A hand seized him from behind, and the gun was jerked
out of his hand. It went off, but the bullet flew over their
heads. There was no more twisting of Jake's arm, however.
i 5 4 "JACK AND JAKE:
The soldiers, after this, made them march along between
them. They carried them to the clearing where the old
house was, and where some of their comrades were on guard
awaiting them. They marched the boys up to the fire.
" We've got the little horse-thieves," they declared. " They
were coming over after another horse ; but I guess we'll
break it up now."
" Why, they are mighty little fellows to be horse-thieves,'"
said one.
" They are the worst kind," declared the other.
" Must be right bad, then, corporal, for you are pretty
handy yourself," declared a comrade.
" We are not any horse-thieves," asserted Jack. " We
found this horse."
" Shut up !" ordered one of his captors. They began to
talk about what they would do with them. Several methods
of securing them were proposed, and it was finally deter-
mined to lock them up in the loft of the old cabin till morn-
ing, when they would carry them to camp, and the Colonel
would make proper disposition of them.
" Can't they get away in there ?" asked one man.
" No ; there is a bolt on the outside of the door," said
another. " Besides, we are all down here."
They were accordingly taken and carried into the house
and up the rickety old stairs to the loft, where they were left
on the bare floor with a single blanket. It was quite dark in
there, and Jack felt very low down as he heard the bolt
"JACK AND JAKE." 155
pushed into the staple on the outside. Jake was crying, and
Jack could not help sobbing a little himself. He had, how-
ever, to comfort Jake, so he soon stopped, and applied him-
self to this work. The only comfort Jake took was in his
assurance that he would get him out
" How you gwine do it ?" asked Jake.
" Never mind, I'll do it," declared Jack, though he had no
idea how he was to make good his word. He had taken
eood notice of the outside of the cabin, and now he be^an
to examine the inside. As his eyes became accustomed to
the darkness, he could see better, and as they were bare-
footed, they could walk about without any noise. The old
roof was full of holes, and they could see the sky grow white
with the rising moon. There was an old window in one end
of the loft. There were holes in the side, and looking out,
Jack could see the men sitting about, and hear their voices.
Jack tried the window ; it was nailed down. He examined
it carefully, as he did every other part of the room. He
decided that he could cut the window out in less time than
he could cut a hole through the roof.
He would have tried the bolt, but some of the men were
asleep in the room below, and they could not pass them.
If they could get out of the window, they might climb down
the chimney. He had nothing but his old pocket-knife, and
unfortunately a blade of that was broken ; but the other was
good. He told Jake his plan, who did not think much of it.
Jack thought it was bedtime, so he knelt down and said his
156 "JACK AND JAKE.'
prayers. When he prayed for his mother he felt very badly,
and a few tears stole out of his eyes. When he was done,
Jack began to work. He worked carefully and quietly at first,
making a cut or two, and then listening to see if any one stirred
below. This was slow work, and after a while he began to
cut harder and faster. It showed so very little that he pres-
ently got impatient, and dug his knife deeper into the plank.
It took a good hold, he gave a vigorous pull, and the blade
snapped off in the middle. It made so much noise that one
of the men below asked :
" What are those boys doin' upstairs there ? They ain't
tryin' to git away, yo' s'pose, are they? If so, we better
fetch 'em down here."
Jack flung himself' down beside Jake and held his breath.
The soldiers listened, and then one of them said :
" Oh, no, 'tain't nothin' but rats. They're fast asleep, I
miess."
Jack almost gave himself up for lost, for he now had only
his broken blade ; but after a while he went at it again, mere
carefully. He could see that he was making headway now,
and he kept on cutting. Jake went fast asleep in the blanket,
but Jack kept on. After a time he had nearly cut out one of
the planks ; he could get a hold on it and feel it give. At
this point his impatience overcame him. He took hold and
gave a wrench. The plank broke with a noise which startled
not only Jake lying in his blanket, but the men below, one or
two of whom sprang up. They began to discuss the noise.
"JACK AXD JAKE." 157
" That war'n't no rats," said one. " Them boys is trying
to git out. I heard the window open. Go and see what
they are doing," he said to his comrade.
Jack held his breath.
"You go yourself," said he. " I say it's rats."
" Rats ! You've got rats," said the other. " I'll go, just
to show you 'tain't rats."
He got up, and taking a torch, came to the stair. Jack
felt his heart jump up in his mouth. He just had time to
stuff his hat into the hole he had made, to shut out the sky,
and to fling himself clown beside Jake and roll up in the
blanket, when the bolt was pulled back and the man entered.
He held the torch high above his head and looked around.
Jack felt his hair rise. He could hear his heart thumping,
and was sure the man heard it too. Jake stirred. Jack
clutched him and held him. The man looked at them. The
flame flickered and died, the man went out, the bolt grated in
the staple, and the man went down the shaky stair.
" Well, you are right for once," Jack heard him say.
" Must have been rats ; they are both fast asleep on the
floor."
Jack waited till the talk died away, and then he went to
work again. He had learned a lesson by this time, and he
worked carefully. At last he had the hole big enough to
creep through. It was right over the shoulder of the rickety
old log chimney, and by making a quick turn he could catch
hold of the "chinking" and climb down by it. He could see
158 "JACK AND JAKE:
the men outside, but the chimney would be partly between
them, and as they climbed down the shadow would, he believed,
conceal them. He did not know how long he had been work-
ing, so he thought it best not to wait any longer. Therefore,
after taking a peep through the cracks down on the men
below, and finding them all asleep, he began to wake Jake.
Having got him awake, he lay down by him and whispered
his plans to him. He would go first to test the chimney, and
then Jake would come. They were not to speak under any
circumstances, and if either slipped, they were to lie perfectly
still. The blanket — except one piece, which he cut off and
hung over the hole to hide the sky, in case the men should
come up and look for them — was to be taken along with
them to rlinsr over them if their flight should be discovered.
The soldiers might think it just one of their blankets. After
they got to the woods, they were to make for their tree. If
they were pursued, they were to lie down under bushes and
not speak or move. Having arranged everything, and fas-
tened the piece of blanket so that it hung loosely over the
hole, allowing them to get through, Jack crawled out of the
window and let himself down by his hands. His bare feet
touched the shoulder of the chimney, and letting go, he
climbed carefully down. Jake was ajready coming out of the
window. Jack thought he heard a noise, and crept around
the house through the weeds to see what it was. It was
only a horse, and he was turning back, when he heard a great
racket and scrambling, and with a tremendous thump Jake
"JACK AND JAKE." 159
came tumbling down from the chimney into the weeds. He
had the breath all knocked out of him, and lay quite still.
Jack heard some one say, " What on earth was that ? " and he
had only time to throw the blanket over Jake and drop down
into the weeds himself, when he heard the man come striding
around the house. He had his gun in his hand. He passed
right by him, between him and the dark blanket lying in the
corner. He stopped and looked all around. He was not ten
feet from him, and was right over the blanket under which Jake
lay. He actually stooped over, as if he was going to pull the
blanket off of Jake, and Jack gave himself up for lost. But
the man passed on, and Jack heard him talking to his com-
rades about the curious noise. They decided that it must
have been a gun which burst somewhere. Jack's heart
was in his mouth about Jake. He wondered if he was
killed. He was about to crawl up to him, when the blan-
ket stirred and Jake's head peeped out, then went back.
"Jake, oh, Jake, are you dead?" asked Jack, in a whis-
per.
" I dun know ; b'lieve I is," answered Jake. " Mos' dead,
anyway."
" No, you ain't. Is your leg broke ? "
" Yes."
" No, 'tain't," encouraged jack. " Waggle your toe ; can
you waggle your toe ?"
" Yes ; some, little bit," whispered lake, kicking under
the blanket.
160 "JACK AXD JAKE."
" Waggle your other toe — waggle all your toes," whis-
pered Jack.
The blanket acted as if some one was having a fit
under it.
"Your leg ain't broke; you are all right," said Jack.
" Come on."
Jake insisted that his leg was broken, and that he could
not walk.
"Crawl," said Jack, creeping up to him. "Come on, like
Injins. It's getting day." He started off through the weeds,
and Jake crawled after him. His ankle was sprained, how-
ever, and the briers were thick, and he made slow progress,
so Jack crawled along by him through the weeds, helping
him.
They were about half way across the little clearing when
they heard a noise behind them ; lights were moving about
in the house, and, looking back, Jack saw men moving around
the house, and a man poked his head out of the window.
" Here's where they escaped," they called Another man
below the window called out, " Here's their track, where they
went. They cannot have gone far. We can catch them."
They started toward them. It was the supreme mo-
ment.
" Run, Jake ; run for the woods," cried Jack, springing to
his feet and pulling Jake up. The}' struck out. Jake was
limping, however, and Jack put his arm under him and sup-
ported him along. They heard a cry behind them of, " There
"JACK AND JAKE." 161
they go ! catch them ! " But they were almost at the woods,
and a second later they were dashing through the bushes,
heading straight for their crossing at the old tree. After a
time they had to slow up, for Jake's ankle pained him. Jack
carried him on his back ; but he was so heavy he had fre-
quently to rest, and it was broad day before they got near
the river. They kept on, however, and after a time reached
the stream. There Jake declared he could not cross the
poles. Jack urged him, and told him he would help him
across. He showed him how. Jake was unstrung, and could
not try it. He sat down and cried. Jack said he would go
home and bring him help. Jake thought this best. Jack
crawled over the pole, and was nearly across, when, looking
back, he saw a number of soldiers on the hill riding through
the woods.
" Come on, Jake ; here they come," he called. The sol-
diers saw him at the same moment, and some of them started
down the hill. A shot or two were fired toward them ; Jake
began to cry. Jack was safe, but he turned and crawled back
over the pole toward him. " Come on, Jake ; they are com-
ing. They won't hit you — you can get over."
Jake started ; Jack waited, and reached out his hand to
him. Jake had gotten over the worst part, when his foot
slipped, and with a cry he went down into the water. Jack
caught his hand, but it slipped out of his grasp. He came
up with his arms beating wildly. " Help — help me ! " he
cried, and went down again. In went Jack head foremost,
1 62 "JACK AXD JAKE"
and caught him by the arm. Jake clutched him. They came
up. Jack thought he had him safe. " I've got you," he said.
" Don't " But before he could finish the sentence, Jake
flung his arm around his neck and choked him, pulling him
down under the water, and getting it into his throat and nos-
trils. Jack struggled, and tried to get up, but he could not ;
Jake had him fast. He knew he was drowning. He remem-
bered being down on the bottom of the river and think-
ing" that if he could but get Jake to the top again he would
be safe. He thought that the Yankees might save him. He
tried, but Jake had him tight, choking him. He thought
how he had brought him there ; he thought of his mother
and father, and that he had not seen his mother that morn-
ing, and had not said his prayers, and then he did not know
anything more.
The next thing he knew, some one said, " He's all right,"
and he heard confused voices, and was suffering some in his
chest and throat, and he heard his mother's voice, and open-
ing his eyes he was in a tent. She was leaning over him,
crying and kissing him, and there were several gentlemen
around the bed he was on. He was too weak to think much,
but he felt glad that his mother was there. " I went back
after Jake," he said, faintly.
"Yes, you did, like a man," said a gentleman in an offi-
cer's uniform, bending over him. " We saw you."
Jack turned from him. " Mother," he said, feebly, " we
carried the horse back, but "
"JACK AND JAKE." 16
j
" He is just outside the door," said the same gentleman ;
" he belongs to you. His owner has presented him to
you.
" To me and Jake ! " said Jack. " Where is Jake ? " But
they would not let him talk. They made him go to sleep.
THE END.
SCRIBNER'S "BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG.
STORIES FOR BOYS
BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS.
With Six full-pajre Illustrations. One volume, nmo
CON'TENTS. — The Reporter who made himself King.
- Sl.oo.
Midsummer Pirates. Richard
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In freshness of theme and originality of treatment, these boys' stories are character-
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water. Every boy will find them rattling good stories.
SCRIBNERS 'BOOKS FOX THE YOUNG.
A NEW SERIES FOR BOYS.
Hound in uniform style and sold at $1.25 each.
THE BOY SETTLERS.
A STORY OF EARLY TIMES IN KANSAS.
BY NOAH BROOKS.
Willi Sixteen full-page Illustrations
toy W. A. Rogers.
One volume, 1 2UW, - - $1.25.
In "The Boy Settlers" Noah Brooks has written a
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With Eifflit full-page Illustrations. One -volume, 121110, Si. 2.1.
These eighteen stories and sketches are true pictures of the life of the wonderful and almost unknown
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SCRIBNER'S BOOKS FOX THE YOUNG.
TWO BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
Mr. Beard has added sixty new drawings to his " American Boy's
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THE AMERICAN BOY'S HANDY BOOK;
OR, W HAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT.
BY DANIEL C. BEARD.
With over 360 Illustrations by the Author.
One volume, square 8vo, - - - $2.00
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THE AMERICAN GIRL'S HANDY BOOK;
OR, HOW TO AMUSE YOURSELF AND OTHERS.
BY LENA AND ADELIA B. BEARD.
With over 500 Illustrations by the Authors.
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Mrs. Burnetts Three Famous Juveniles.
Uniform in style and Illustrated by R. B. Birch.
*A NEW "BOOK FOR THE CHRISTMAS SEASON.
LITTLE SAINT ELIZABETH
ANT) OTHER STORIES.
BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.
With 12 new full-page Drawings by Reginald B. Birch.
One volume, square 8vo, - - - $1.50.
FROM SUSAN COOLIDGE :
" The pretty tale from which the book borrows its name has
for its heroine a little French girl brought up in an old chateau
in Normandy, by an aunt who is a recluse and devote. A child
of this type, transplanted suddenly while still in childhood to the
realistic atmosphere of prosperous New York, must inevitably
have much to suffer. She is puzzled ; she is lonely; she has no
one to direct her conscience. The quaint little figure, blindly
trying to guess the riddle of duty under these
unfamiliar conditions, is pathetic, and Mrs. Burnett tou
with delicate strokes. The stories are prettily illustrated by
hes it
Birch.'
LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.
Beautifully Illustrated by Reginald B. Bircli.
One volume, square 8vo, ..... $2.00.
FROM LOUISA M. ALCOTT :
"In 'Little Lord Fauntleroy' we gain another charming child to
add to our gallery of juvenile heroes and heroines ; one who teaches
a great lesson with such truth and sweetness that we part with him
with real regret when the episode is over.
SARA CREWE
OR, WHAT HAPPENED AT MISS MINCHIN'S.
Richly and Fully Illustrated by R. B. Birch.
One volume, square 8vo, .... $1.00.
FROM LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON :
" Everybody was in love with ' Little Lord Fauntleroy,' and
I think all the world and the rest of mankind will be in love
with ' Sara Crewe.' I wish every girl in America could read it."